


You Saved the World From Me

by ShipsSailSir



Category: youtube - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Septiplier - Freeform, Septiplier AWAY!, Superhero Mark, antisepticeye, but not really, maybe darkiplier, superhero au, supervillain jack, villain jack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-14 03:24:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 31,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10527837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipsSailSir/pseuds/ShipsSailSir
Summary: Jack was a villain. He stole from banks and destroyed anything that mildly upset himMark was a hero. He fought against Antisepticeye in the hopes of getting the superhero he idolised, Jacksepticeye, back.Somewhere along the way, they fell in love.





	1. where i began

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry, guys, I'm going to finish 'I Don't Really Regret Social Media', but I've been dying to write this, so here is the first chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

**IT** had all started when Seán was a child. Say, around five years old. He was in the park with his mum, on the swings, swinging higher than the other kids. You see, he was practicing, trying to impress the others, especially Seamus, and he was going to do that by swinging higher than all of the others. At least, that used to be his plan, until Connor ruined it by swinging as high as Seán could now. Stupid Connor. So Seán made another plan. Seán would swing as high as he could, and then he would _jump_ off the swings! That would impress everyone. So he was swinging, swinging, swinging, and...JUMP! Oh God.. _Oh God, OH GOD OH GOD TOO HIGH TOO HIGH HE WAS GOING TO BREAK HIS NECK! HE WAS GOING TO DIE HE WAS GOING TO-_

 

He was on the ground again. But how? He wasn’t dead, either. How wasn’t he dead?

 

_“Seán, oh God!”_

 

_Mum is worried. Maybe mum knows what happened. Maybe mum knows why I’m not dead?_

 

_“I thought ya were goin’ to die!”_

 

Her warm arms had wrapped around his body, making him feel safe.

 

It wasn’t until he was nine he realised he could teleport. There was an incident with...you know what, he wasn’t getting into that.

 

The third time he realised that something about him was different was when he was sixteen. His classmates had thought it funny to say he was gay. He wasn’t gay! Was he? Ugh, he didn’t know. But still, it was way out of line to use it as an insult! Honestly, he was angry, absolutely mad. Especially when Seamus joined in.

 

_Fuckin’ Seamus._

 

He was getting angrier by the minute. Every time he thought of those bastards he felt another flame licking his heart, heard another comment fueling his rage.  He didn’t notice that one of his eyes had started to become green.

 

 _“Hey, McLoughlin. Mcloughlin!”_   


_“What t’e Hell do ya want, Connor?”_

 

_“Just wanted to know if yer homosexuality was contagious. Wouldn’t want to get infected.”_

 

Seán spun around. _“Piss t’e fuck off!”_

_“McLoughlin, yer eye is fuckin’ green. Is t’at another symptom of yer gayness, Seánie? Or should I call ya ‘Seánsepticeye’, now, faggot?”_

 

 _“SHUT UP!”_ Seán roared, green flames erupting from his hands, burning the lockers which he’d barely touched.

 

Connor looked at him in fear. Complete and utter fear, nothing else.

 

Seán walked over to him.

 

_“If you ever tell anyone about t’is, I swear to God I will burn ya.”_

  
He hadn’t liked saying that. In fact, he had hated himself after that. The decided that he would never use those powers ever again.

 

 

** ~~_He'd lied._ ~~ **


	2. where i was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not google 'quotes about theft' and I did not choose one from Shakespeare because I thought it was cool. Nope. I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.

* * *

**"The robb'd that smiles, steals something from the thief; He robs himself that spends a bootless grief."**

_-William Shakespeare, Othello_

* * *

 

 **Jack** was running, heart pumping, breath shallow. He was running from the police, who were chasing him because of a minor crime. Honestly, stealing 500,000 Euros wasn't _that_ big of a deal. Okay, maybe it was, but he had to earn his money somehow! Jaysus, the police was _really_ annoying and they definitely knew the alleyways they were running through better than he did. Way better. Fuck.

Oh well, he'd just have to teleport to the Eiffel Tower, no biggie. Oh, _oh,_ he should act like they caught him, and _then_ teleport away. Yes, that’d be fun.

They’d cornered him faster than he'd expected. _The shitholes._

“Ya know, ye’r very rude, ending my fun like that. I don't like rude people.” Jack said, with a pout on his face.

“We don't care. You’re under arrest, Antisepticeye.” Jack held out his wrists, ‘admitting defeat’.

They were moving towards him with a victorious glint in their eyes, sure to turn into confusion when Jack teleported away. It was honestly a shame that he never got to see it. Jack disappeared (and then reappeared) on the Eiffel Tower, lots of people pointing at him in shock, cursing in French.

Damn, there was no reason to call him a shithead.

_“Jesus Christ it's Antisepticeye!”_

_“Mummy, mummy, take a picture!”_

_“I am so posting this on my Insta.”_

Were some of the things he heard. Huh, seemed like he had some fans.

_“-Ruining my bloody vacation!”_

Or not.

Of course, the sirens became audible, warning him that the police was coming. Ah well, it would take them a while to get up there.

He looked out at the area, standing on the railing, wondering why he’d never gone to Paris before. It was a beautiful area, maybe he should move there someday…

 

Neh.

 

The peace was soon disturbed by the police, who were pushing people out of the way, determined to catch the infamous criminal. Jack turned around, facing the wrong side of several guns. Jaysus, he had been joking before, but the French _really_ were rude. He absolutely had to voice his concerns.

“Stop pointin’ yer guns at me! Haven’t ya ever heard of hospitality?” He was met with silence. “Obviously not, then. I really don’t regret stealin’ from ya!”

“You’ve got nowhere to go, Antisepticeye, so stop fooling around and surrender, or we shoot!”

Jack smirked.

“Oh, blast, I have but nowhere to go! I could surrender, and spend my life in prison, or I could try to escape, and then die a painful death! Either way I’ll suffer too much! ‘Tis the end for me, no matter what I do! I cannot live like this!” He was standing on the very edge of the railing now, sure to fall with the slightest gust of wind. “Goodbye, cruel world!” And he fell.

 

* * *

 

Ever since he had realised he could teleport mid-fall, he had utilised it. It made for dramatic getaways and less visits to the hospital, having been pushed off of high places more often than he liked.

He had teleported to the middle of his hallway, not stumbling like he used to, having done this quite often. He felt his clothes change, pushing away the burning flames from his hands, right to his heart.

 

You see, his powers were quite...weird. He hadn’t used the green flames often at first, but once he had actually started to use them more frequently, he could _feel_ them. In his hands, in his chest, surrounding his heart. With that feeling he’d learnt to control them, and he only used them when absolutely necessary, like when he was running for the police, or needed to cook something on the barbeque. Both were equally important.

 

His other powers consisted out of teleportation, omnilingualism, and the ability to change his outfit to his disguise for when he had to steal something on the spot.

 

He had noticed the omnilingualism when he’d started learning French, and then realising that, what the fuck, he could already speak it. The same thing with German, Spanish, Chinese and Latin (the last two were clubs, and not mandatory, but he’d wanted to try it out anyway).

 

Jack walked into the kitchen, following his normal post-theft routine. Also known as making coffee, checking the news on TV, and browsing the internet for news about his crime.

 

 _Breaking news: Antisepticeye has struck again! This time in the city of Paris blah blah blah_ blah blah and other unimportant stuff that he already knew.

 

He didn’t know why he bothered with the news, it was always the same stuff.

 

The fan-blogs on Tumblr were being nice again, the hate-blogs were being honest yet cruel. Jack wondered why they hadn’t dubbed themselves the ‘Anti-Antis’, that would be hilarious as fuck.

 

Scrolling, scrolling, scrolling, textpost, picture, picture, textpost, picture, fanart, textpost, gay fanart with another man, textpost, more gay fanart, textpo-

 

_Wait._

 

 _More_ gay fanart with another man? One time, sure, probably an original character, but twice? Jack scrolled back up to the fanarts, checking the tags.

 

_Markiplier._

 

Who the Hell was Markiplier?

 

Upon googling him, Jack stumbled upon news articles about the American superhero, all of them by the American press. No big companies, though, and that surprised him. Superheroes weren’t a common thing, in fact, he’d thought that he was the only person with powers until that moment. Why the Hell wasn’t this mainstream?

 

He did some more research, and discovered that the man had only appeared once, a few months ago, in a small, irrelevant town. That could possibly be an explanation for this all.

 

Though, it did make him question why people on Tumblr thought that they were romantically involved…

 

You know what, questioning Tumblr wasn’t a good idea.

 

He scrolled for another while, before deciding that he was bored and that he was going to do something more fun, because he didn’t live the criminal life he did for boredom to be a thing, God damn it!

 

He should put that on a shirt. Or at least add it to his list of things to put on a shirt. It was a long list.

 

After the many hours of gaming he ordered a pizza, and then proceeded to make plans for his next burglary. He had made a whole plan on when he would go where, so he already knew that he was going to America. He then did some research on the bank, the police, and the general area. He had already been there, of course, he’d already been to all of the predetermined places, so honestly it was just a refresher. He then established that he’d wait another week (as he always did) before he’d rob it, and made sure that his schedule would be free around nine o’clock. Tired of all of the planning (because, work), Jack then went to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Skip to one week later. Jack teleported outside of the bank, used his amazing skills to get inside and then teleport to the volt whilst changing into his outfit, sure of victory when he opened it, only to be surprised by the red haired man that stood before him.

 

Unbe-fucking-lievable.

 

It was Marki-fucking-plier.

 

The ‘superhero’.

 

He was trying to foil his plans.

  
“Hello, Antisepticeye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. It's taken me a while to write it, mainly because it's not one of my priorities. I don't know when the next chapter will be up, but it will be there at some point in time! 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> i hope.


	3. where you began

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> is

**UNLIKE** Jack, Mark had never really noticed that he was different. Sure, you had the occasional strange thing, but he usually blamed those on his imagination, or because he hadn’t had coffee. That was until one day, he was late for a class.

 

You see, something had gone wrong with his alarm clock, and he had woken up ten minutes before class started. He was panicking because, shit, he had an exam and he couldn’t miss school. Nope nope nope that was out of the question. He’d put on his clothes in record time, but still only had seven minutes to get to school, which was a thirty minute drive away, seeing as there were a lot of roadworks, or a twenty minute walk, that would honestly be more of a run.

 

He sighed, obviously having to go with the faster option.

 

So Mark had raced down the stairs, out of the house, and into the woods where he could run as fast as he was able to.

 

Honestly, he had expected that he would run faster than usual, but not _that_ fast.

 

Nope, definitely not that fast.

 

He had run faster than the speed of light, overtaking any car on the road, arriving at school in less than a minute. He had stumbled a bit when he got out of the woods, and saw some of his peers look at him, obviously confused. Honestly, he’d felt the same.

 

When he had gotten home, Mark immediately started researching extreme speed, but nothing that he found was even close. Actually, the only things that were close enough were superpowers, but that was _absolutely ridiculous._

 

Later, he’d figured out that it, as a matter of fact, _were_ superpowers.  Incredible, I know. Absolutely unbelievable.

 

Then, just before he started going to college, he entered his superhero fase. At that moment in time he loved everything related to them, and especially his comicbooks. He spent hours upon hours looking stuff up online, and eventually, amongst all of the fanfiction, he found news of an actual superhero. It was only on Tumblr, but he found a lot of proof. The hero he’d found stopped criminals from committing crimes, kicking their arses when they tried to steal from a bank, or a person. Besides, he had to be a real one, because which comic book superhero wore only a gray hoodie and sweatpants? He’d been in awe. Complete and utter awe. He’d googled pictures, watched interviews, and followed blogs. He’d been there way before the hero had become mainstream, and was there in the short while after. But then he disappeared. Nobody knew where he’d gone, and, after a while, everybody...forgot. Mark didn’t. The hero had been his crutch, just knowing that there was someone out there like him gave him so much comfort.

 

About three months after his disappearance, Antisepticeye appeared. For some, he was an explanation.

 

See, there was this theory that Antisepticeye had gotten rid of the world’s beloved hero and had managed to mimic him. At least, in a certain way. Their fighting techniques were the same and they could both teleport, and the costume, Antisepticeye was also wearing the gray hoodie and sweatpants combination, except that his were burned. The edges were dark black and honestly looked like they were going to fall apart. Then there was the name. As far as anyone knew, Anti had chosen his name himself. Why would he choose that? Because he wanted revenge. God knew why, there were multiple theories on that, but none of them had any proof.

 

But Mark just _knew_ that Antisepticeye had gotten rid of the hero.

 

And Mark was going to get Jacksepticeye back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, let me explain why the title has changed: I read a poem and it was great and I wanted to name this fic after it. The poem is Wind And Window Flower by Robert Frost, who is my favourite poet. You should definitely look up the poem, and if you're too lazy, the names of the chapters of this fic are literally taken from it. So once this is done you can look at those. Yay! Also, I'm changing 'she' to 'he' just for ''accuracy''.
> 
> Also, I'm adding quotes to the chapters that are not backstories, so that's why this one is very quoteless.


	4. where we met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> growing

* * *

**“There is no good and evil, there is only power and those too weak to seek it.”**

_― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_

* * *

 

_**“HELLO,** Antisepticeye.” _

 

Even though he was in complete and utter shock, Jack managed to plaster a friendly smile on his face and said:

 

“Please, call me Anti, the full thin’ is so... _formal_.”

 

Markiplier looked at him calculatingly, trying to figure out why the criminal was being so, well, _nice._

 

“Can I call ya Mark? Or maybe Iplier? Oh, oh, I know, Markimoo!”

 

“Just call me Markiplier.”

 

Jack gave him a crooked smile. “Shame, I like nicknames, Anti is one of mine. I like it. It makes me sound dangerous. Do ya t’ink I’m dangerous?”

 

While saying this, he started to walk towards the money, which was behind the ‘superhero’. What a stupid term that was, _superhero._ There was nothing super about them.

 

“Please step away from the money.” Ah, Markimoo had caught him, what a lad.

 

Anti’s smile grew. He jumped playfully towards the money, and wasn’t really that close, but the red-haired man was running at him fast, faster than the speed of light, and pinned him against the wall, his face way to close. Jack’s smile had disappeared for a moment, but it started to creep up his face again.

 

“Ya know, if ya wanted to kiss me, ya’d only have to ask. No need t’ pin me against t’e wall.”

 

“Stop playing these games, Anti.” Markiplier growled, becoming very annoyed. His hands were holding Jack’s wrist tightly against the wall, face close to the villain’s, harsh breath leaving his mouth.

 

“What games, Marshmellow?” The pure glee and on Jack’s face was infuriating Markiplier even more, making his grip tighter, which caused Jack to pale a little.

 

“Love, w-would ya mind loosenin’ yer grip a little?” Shit, he’d stuttered. That was not good. Luckily, the ‘hero’ didn’t seem to have noticed.

 

“Where is he, Anti?” The flames in Markiplier’s eyes were frightening, positively frightening. Jack had never been so scared in his life.

 

But he’d be damned if he were to show it.

 

Jack gave the other man a smirk. “Well, Markifart, if ya let me go, I’ll happily answer all of yer questions.”

 

“Don’t. Call. Me. That.”

 

“What, Markifart?” Markiplier glared, and Jack’s smirk only grew. “Markifart, Markifart, MarkiMarkiMarkifart!”

 

Markiplier suddenly threw him on the floor, completely done with the criminal’s teasing, only wanting answers which he knew he wouldn’t get.

 

“Ya pushed me.” Jack said accusingly, getting a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I don’t know about you, darlin', but I don’t appreciate being pushed around.”

 

He teleported in front of Markiplier, attempting to punch him in the gut, only to have his fist meet Jack’s eye, accompanied by stinging pain and blurred vision. Jack kicked the other man who doubled over in pain, pain that seemed to disappear as soon as it came, pain which was returned to Jack in the form of a blow to the chest, causing Jack the fall on his arse. He tried teleporting behind Markiplier again, but the attempt was futile and caused his mouth to fill with blood. Jack tackled the hero, pinning him down to the floor and slamming his forehead against the cool ground, a smear of blood appearing on the marble, but Markiplier was quick to push Jack off of him, not a trace of the injury that the criminal had given him. Jack stood up, hands trembling with rage for his opponent seemed to predict every single attack, being able to block it and wounding Jack.

 

~~_but jack would not be wounded that would just not do now would it_ ~~

 

Adrenaline soared through Jack, or maybe it were just the flames, the poisonous, green flames which were emitting from his hands, which were sure to injure all but the villain himself. Jack dived towards the hero, slashing his face with the fire.

 

The hero groaned, the intense pain making him want to scream, but being incapable of doing so for if he moved more the burning would become positively unbearable.

 

A sly grin appeared on Anti’s face as he walked towards the money, celebrating his triumph.

 

He grabbed for the cash, stuffing it into his bag. He had almost filled the second one when he was pushed to the ground, the red-haired bastard standing above him. He was about to grab Jack, ready to resume their fight, so Jack was forced to teleport away, into his oh-so familiar hallway, feeling anything but happy.

 

He had escaped, yes, that was good, but he shouldn’t have had a reason to escape. He shouldn’t have a reason to feel lucky that he had at least escaped with _some_ money. Hell no, he was pissed. He had only fled with a fifth of the usual amount of cash, and he would not feel fucking grateful for that. He was shaking with anger because of that damn ‘hero’ who couldn’t mind his own business, feeling the need to unleash it somehow, and with that, he ran to the end of the hall and punched the mirror which hung there, fist immediately burning with pain.

 

Then he saw it.

 

He saw himself.

 

No, not himself, he saw _Anti_.

 

The mirror, though shattered, clearly depicted a green-haired man who was sporting a gray hoodie with black, burned sleeves, who had small flames covering his eyes, though they were quickly dying out. His left eye was green and appeared to be glowing, while his right one remained blue. His ears were pointed, and all in all he was scaring the shit out of Jack.

 

Jesus, he had seen pictures before, but they didn’t compare to what he was seeing in the mirror.

 

Slowly, he saw how Anti faded back into Jack, and he decided that he didn’t _ever_ want to see that in the mirror again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOO IM BEING ACTIVE YESSSSS!
> 
> So yeah THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR NICE COMMENTS IT FILLS ME WITH DETERMINATION! wait i just unconsciously made that reference im sorry
> 
> Ok so anyway will you guys please give me tips for fight scenes because it's my first time really writing them and it's pretty hard and there are lots more to come. Also, sorry for making you cringe with constantly writing 'Markiplier' and not 'Mark' I'm sorry it was hard but I didn't have a choice. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!


	5. where i hurt you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stronger

* * *

**"Fire that is kept close burns most of all"**

_-William Shakespeare_

* * *

 

 **AFTER** half an hour of being questioned by the police and praised by the general public, Mark was finally able to return home. He was absolutely exhausted and decided that only one thing could help him regain some of his strength, that could help him be able to destroy evil once and for all!

 

A nap.

 

The hero headed up to his bedroom, flopping onto his bed and falling asleep immediately.

 

* * *

 

_‘Mark…’_

 

_He was walking through a dark room, trying to find an exit._

 

_‘Markimooo…’_

 

_Or an entrance to another room, for that matter._

 

_‘Markiplier…’_

 

_Or maybe a light switch, that’d be good too._

 

_‘Marshmallow…’_

 

_Or just a piece of furniture, to assure him that he wasn't just walking through a dark abyss._

 

_‘Markifart…’_

 

_Another person would also be nice, yeah, some company._

 

_‘Mark.’_

 

_He turned around, seeing green flames in front of him. Green flames and green hair and a face, not a green one._

 

_‘I’ve been waitin’ for ya, love.’_

 

_He tried to take a step backwards, but found that he wasn’t able to._

 

_‘Now, darlin’, don’t be so rude,  this is not how ya treat a man.’_

 

_He was starting to panic, and tried to put more strength into the action, but nothing happened._

 

_‘You know, dear, I’m startin’ to think that ya don’t want to be here.’_

 

_The man took a step closer._

 

_‘Don’t flee.’_

 

_Another step._

 

_‘Don’t even try to run.’_

 

_Even closer._

 

_‘Because ya can’t.’_

 

_Too close._

 

_‘Ya can’t run from me, Mark.’_

 

_The flames all gathered in his hand, which he slowly lifted._

 

_‘Ya can never escape me.’_

 

_And then threw towards him._

 

* * *

 

Mark jumped up, sweat dripping down his forehead, heart racing because of the fear that the nightmare had given him. He heard barks, familiar barks. Chica was barking. Thank goodness, she would protect him from Anti. Wait, that was a dream.

 

God damn it, had he really had a nightmare about Anti?

 

_It’s Antisepticeye, you idiot._

 

Well, he asked me to call him Anti.

 

_And you’re listening to him?_

 

Point taken.

 

With a sigh, Mark got out of his bed and took a long, cold shower, feeling like an idiot. Why was he scared of a man who was just a flirt? Honestly, it wasn’t like he was intimidating. Deciding to push the man to the back of his mind, Mark went downstairs and gave Chica her food. He had slept for five hours, meaning it was 4 o’clock, also known as too late for lunch but too early for dinner, and he wasn’t going to have dunch. Or linner. Same thing.  

 

He started up his computer, ready to play any random game to distract him, because, even though he’d said he wouldn’t, he couldn’t stop thinking of the green-haired villain.

 

* * *

 

After an hour or two of playing God knows what game, he got a text message.

 

 **_F:_ ** _mark wtf why didnt u tell me u were goin 2 do tht_

 

 **_M:_ ** _Do what?_

 

 **_F:_ ** _kick antisepticeyes ass_

 

Oh. Oh yeah that had happened. It’s not like Mark was thinking about it. Nope. Not at all.

 

 **_M:_ ** _Because I didn’t kick his ass???? He got away_

 

 **_F:_ ** _yes but barely he didnt take everythg like he only took 50000 dollars or smthg_

 

He had? Honestly, he hadn’t been paying attention to how much Anti had taken. But damn, that was about a fifth of the amount of money that Anti usually escaped with!

Maybe, just maybe, he could stop this threat. Maybe he could get Jacksepticeye back.

He felt hope fill his chest, the warm flood different from the flames that Anti had burned him with. Thank God he had healing powers, or those scars would have been horrendous.

 

 **_F:_ ** _bro r u there?_

 

Oh, yeah, Felix. The only person who knew about his powers. They’d met in Mark’s final year of highschool, and had immediately become very close, partly because of their mutual love of videogames. So of course it was logical that Mark went to Felix when he was having his are-these-superpowers-what-the-hell-is-going-on crisis, and Felix had been the one to actually say ‘Mark, bro, no matter how much research you do, it will always come back to superpowers. Congratulations, you’re a magical fairy!’ or something along those lines. But Felix had moved to England, and Mark was left all alone. Well, he would have been, but luckily he was a magical fairy and he could go to wherever, whenever he wanted.

 

 **_F:_ ** _bro stop ignorin me_

 

 **_M:_ ** _Sorry, got distracted_

 

 **_F:_ ** _r00d_

 

 **_F:_ ** _wait mark_

 

 **_F:_ ** _r u cheatin on me?_

 

 **_F:_ ** _wot is her name?_

 

 **_M:_ ** _Her name is Chica, she’s a blonde._

 

 **_F:_ ** _wtf mark u cant d8 ur dog_

 

* * *

 

The next day, Mark resumed his normal routine. He ate his breakfast, went to the video game store where he worked, came back home, ate some dinner, played some video games and went to sleep. To some people it seemed repetitive, but Mark liked it. He continued doing that for the rest of the week until Saturday came and he had to try to stop Antisepticeye again, since Anti was always active on Saturdays. Mark had figured out his routine early on, and had been surprised others hadn’t figured out the pattern.

 

_it was so obvious :)_

 

Mark shivered, wondering where that thought had come from. It made sense, but…

 

He decided to forget about it, and changed into his superhero costume. The costume consisted out of black sweatpants, a t-shirt with a white ‘M’ that had a pink moustache on it, and a black mask. Hero’s didn’t really have fancy suits in real life, just comfortable ones.

 

Mark ran to the bank, prepared to give everybody inside an explanation as to why he had to get into the vault, but when he got there everybody was tied up with ropes. He faltered, looking around the room until eventually his eyes landed on Antisepticeye, who gave Mark a crooked grin.

 

“Hello, love, I don’t think you expected t’is?”

 

Mark gritted his teeth together, glaring at the smug villain. How the Hell had he managed to tie up everybody in the bank? “No, I didn’t.”

 

“Dear, I would appreciate it if you started talkin’ a little bit more.” Anti said flirtatiously, goodness knows how, leering at Mark as he was doing so.

 

“I would appreciate it if you stopped robbing banks.”

 

The villain’s sickening grin grew. “Make me.”

 

Mark clenched his jaw, trying to gain control over his anger, failing miserably.

 

Suddenly, he got an idea. Mark ran to one of the tied up hostages, untying them as fast as he possibly could, headed over to Anti and tied him up instead. The villain was rendered immobile, and was, quite frankly, shocked. Feeling victorious, Mark walked over to the villain, and leaned in. “I think I made you.” He didn’t know why he did it, but afterwards he smirked. He started to make his way towards the exit, hearing the sirens in the background, until the smell fire made it’s way to Mark’s nose. His eyes widened and he turned around immediately. He was met with the sight of a furious Anti who was looking at the ground, completely surrounded by green fire. Slowly, he raised his head.

 

His eyes were completely black.

 

 **_“Yøû įdïøt. Yøū thįñk yøù çáñ štøp mę? Há!”_ ** Anti’s voice sounded distorted, and the fire was growing, and Mark was scared shitless. **_“Į. Ám. Ūñštøppābłė.”_ **

 

He hurled the flames towards Mark, who couldn’t jump aside in time and got burnt by the green fire.

 

Everything turned black.

 

* * *

 

Jack teleported home as soon as he realised what he’d done. Millions of thoughts raced through his head, but he was, to put it simply, afraid. He was scared that he had accidentally killed the hero, that he had truly become a monster and was not just some criminal. As he sunk down to the ground, tears started to well up in his eyes and soon they were streaming down his face. God, he’d fucked up. He started pulling at his hair when he noticed something, namely that it was...longer? Jack rushed to the mirror at the end of his hallway, and froze when he saw it.

 

His hair was green.

 

Jack’s hair was a vibrant shade of green.

 

Oh fuck.

 

* * *

 

Mark woke up to footsteps. The feet were running, some coming close to him, most going to the other side of the room. He opened his eyes and was met with gray ones. They looked concerned, and the person they belonged to started to ask questions, but Mark couldn't be bothered to answer them. He stood up and immediately felt pain, unbearable pain. What the fuck had happened?

 

Oh yeah, Anti had decided to burn him.

 

Quickly, he continued to heal himself, thanking whatever God was out there for those powers, or else he'd be burnt to a crisp.

 

Then he looked around, seeing dozens of people being untied by the police. He heard people crying, a little kid wailing the loudest of them all. How the fuck could Anti have done this?

 

Feeling sick to his stomach, Mark ran outside, immediately being greeted by reporters. “Markiplier! Markiplier!” They all screamed his name, dying to ask him a question about whatever the fuck had happened. Sighing, the hero accepted his fate.

 

He pointed at a young woman in the back of the crowd, who was patiently holding up her hand. Mark asked her to speak.

 

“Natasha, reporting for The Orion. What exactly happened in the bank?” All of the reporters stared at him expectantly as Mark began to tell them what happened.

 

* * *

 

 _No, no, no, no, no! This could not be happening!_ Jack stared at his reflection in the mirror, quickly grabbing his hair and pulling it in front of his eyes. Green. It was green. His hair was green, like Anti’s.

 

* * *

 

“How did you get your powers?” Another rapporter asked.

 

“Eh, I'm not exactly sure...I think I was born with them?”

 

* * *

 

What if people found out…

 

Oh God, they couldn't find out!

 

* * *

 

“Do you think you'll be able to defeat Antisepticeye?”

 

In all honesty, Mark wasn't sure. Anti was extremely powerful, and undoubtedly capable of killing him. Looking back at what had happened, the villain probably was going to kill him.

 

* * *

 

He was going to be arrested. His life was going to be ruined.

 

* * *

 

Mark ran back home.

 

* * *

 

Both men sank to the ground, thinking the same thing.

  
_I'm doomed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, people! Sorry that this took so long, but I've been really busy. I wanted to post another chapter because I'm going to Italy tomorrow and I have no idea if I'll be able to write, so...  
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed this!


	6. where we met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i

* * *

**"Love is the only force capable of turning an enemy into a friend."**

_-Martin Luther King, Jr._

* * *

 

 **JACK** had lived with his green hair for a week, and it had been Hell. He closed all the blinds and basically locked himself in his room for the whole week, only coming out when he needed to eat. Saturday came sooner than he expected, catching him off-guard. He had planned to go to Rome, but seeing as Markiplier always knew where Jack was going to be, it didn’t seem like such a good idea. Maybe he should just rest for this week, play some videogames, and then he could continue next week. Yeah, that seemed like a good idea, he’d do that. It would also confuse the media, and waste Markiplier’s time. People would think he’d given up, and he could surprise them when he came back. God, he was a genius!

 

Or he was just looking for excuses to do nothing.

 

Probably.

 

Around midday, Jack looked at his phone, checking the news and all of his social media.

_‘Has Anti given up?’_

_‘Antisepticeye - Gone!’_

_‘Bye Bye, Anti!’_

On Tumblr everybody was going insane, Instagram wasn’t any different. It was _hilarious_ , seeing everybody panic about his disappearance, some people even making theories, ranging from him being sick, to Anti and Markiplier being on a romantic vacation. The last one didn’t make sense, since Markiplier had been at the bank, right? Confused, Jack looked at one of the news articles.

_“-Neither Markiplier nor Antisepticeye were at a bank today-”_

 

What.

 

No no no no no no no no, that’s _not_ what he had planned. Jack let out a groan of frustration, angry at Markiplier, who always foiled his plans. He felt something in his fingers, something that burned and- No. Calm down, Seán, count to ten.

 

What if Markiplier was dead.

 

Jack paled at the thought, and at the likeliness of it. The last time, Markiplier didn’t have any scars, and didn’t seem to be harmed, but what he’d done last week...that was a lot of fire, and Jack knew how destructive it could be.

 

Fuck, he’d killed Markiplier, hadn’t he?

 

* * *

 

When Mark got home, he was absolutely exhausted. He’d slept all day, and on Sunday he was still tired. He’d used up a lot of his powers, and the flames had...had affected him. They’d affected his dreams, to be precise. He couldn’t sleep without dreaming of the green fire, and eventually he just gave up. That week, he’d slept for about three hours a night, and on the Saturday he was supposed to go to Rome, he decided to wait. The media was keeping an eye out on all of the banks, right? If Anti attacked, Mark would know. For now, though, he was going to sleep. He turned on the notifications for the news app, and let the darkness consume his vision.

  


Okay, Jack, focus. You can’t let him distract you. Now, what are you going to do next. You have to go to a bank in a new place. Where? Jack looked the map in his living room.

 

_L.A._

 

It was the first place he saw. He hadn’t been there yet, and wasn’t planning on going there either. It was perfect, but he would have to check out the area beforehand. Oh well, he could do that on Sunday. He started to look at banks, and felt his good mood return.

 

This was going to be so much fun.

 

* * *

 

Mark woke up quite early on Sunday morning, with a horrible headache, and he was even more exhausted than before.  He checked the news, remembering that it was Saturday yesterday and that he had slept through it.

 

_‘Has Anti given up?’_

_‘Antisepticeye - Gone!’_

_‘Bye Bye, Anti!’_

 

What.

 

Mark clicked on one of the articles.

 

_“-Neither Markiplier nor Antisepticeye were at a bank today-”_

 

Why wasn’t Anti at a bank? Was he gone, or dead? Had he given up? So many questions raced through Mark’s head, and he wanted answers. Mark stood up, wanting to find the villain, before realising that he wasn’t healthy enough to do so. And that he was hungry. Shit, his fridge was empty. He made himself some coffee, and headed out.

 

He stumbled around the supermarket, probably paid too much for his food, but found that he didn’t give a damn.

 

* * *

 

Jack teleported to an alleyway which he’d found on Google Maps, and made his way to the bank. It wasn’t hard to find, and Jack could easily enter it. Thank goodness it was busy, or else people would have noticed the short, pale guy standing in the corner, just looking around the bank. He found a place he could teleport to so that he could find the vault, located all of the security cameras, and was done with everything within an hour.

“Excuse me, sir, can I help ya?” A short, blonde woman had walked up to him. “Ah, no, I’m just waiting for a friend,” Jack said in his best American accent. He spotted a man who was walking out of the bank, “In fact, I think that’s him. Eh, gotta go, bye!” Jack practically ran out of the building, having forgotten how to deal with these situations. He had visited dozens of banks, and had been approached very often, but that had, of course, been a long time ago.

 

* * *

 

 

Mark walked down the street, incredibly dizzy, and honest to God not knowing if he could make it home. He was looking at the ground, squeezing his eyes shut since he had forgotten his sunglasses and it was too bright outside. He was stumbling a bit, and he blamed it on the heavy bags he was carrying. He staggered forward and crashed into another human’s body.

 

* * *

 

 

Jack was running down the street, not paying any attention to where he was going. Suddenly, he crashed into someone. Jack fell on top of the other man, who was surprisingly comfortable. The man groaned, and Jack realised that he was probably hurting him. He got off of the American and held out his hand, which the latter gladly took. The Irishman helped the other up and finally looked at him.

Red hair. Glasses. A very handsome face. A strong body.

“Sorry for crashing into you”, He said. His voice was smooth, deep and _very familiar._

“Don’t worry about it, I should’ve been lookin’ at where I was goin’.” Jack didn’t bother hiding his accent.

The American held out his hand. “I’m Mark, Mark Fischbach.”

Jack shook it. “Seán McLoughlin, but everybody calls me Jack.”

Mark smiled. “Nice to meet you, Jack.”

“Nice ta meet ya too.”

 

Jack smiled, even though he knew that he was Markiplier.

  
  
  
  
  


But he also knew that his enemy was _incredibly_ hot.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm posting one more chapter before I'm going to Rome. Hope you all enjoy!


	7. where it started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> can't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO LIKE THIS TOOK WAY TOO LONG TO WRITE. I'm sorry, school's just been killing me (and I haven't even got my exams yet). But I have finally done it! And I have finished changing the end! (It was so anticlimactic...)

* * *

**"Let us be grateful to people who make us happy,**

**they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom."**

_–Marcel Proust_

* * *

 

 

 **"SO,** eh, I should get these bags to my car", Mark said, reaching for the items on the ground.   
  
"I'll help ya", Jack started picking up the groceries as well, making the task less unbearable for the 'hero', who shot him a grateful look. Screw him, why did he have to be so cute?   
  
Mark proceeded to thank him, grabbing the shopping bags and stumbling forward, almost falling again. This continued for another minute before Jack took pity on the man (and the rest of L.A, if Mark had driven to the store by car), and picked up his bags. "Did ya drive here by car, or?"   
  
"I-I'm sorry, what?"   
  
Jack rolled his eyes, "I asked if ya drove here by car, or if ya walked."   
  
"I, eh, I think I drove here by car, but I can't remember",  He looked around the parking lot, "That's my car, s-so I think I drove here."   
  
"Jaysus, Merk, how drunk are ya?"   
  
"I'm not drunk, I'm not allowed to drink", The apparently sober man murmured.   
  
"Okay, let's head over to yer car, and I'll drive ya home."   
  
"W-Why?"   
  
"Because ye're obviously too tired to go home by yerself without killin' all of t'e people on t'e road! Now, where's yer car?"   
  
Mark pointed over to a badly parked vehicle in the corner of the parking lot, and Jack looped his arm through the others, to prevent him from falling again. Slowly but surely they made their way to the car, and they got in. Mark gave Jack his address, and the latter started the car. He kind of knew where he had to go to, seeing as it was near a park that he had deemed one of his escape points (like the Eiffel Tower in Paris).   
  
"So, Mark, why were ya just stumbling around?" Mark shot him a confused look. "I mean, why weren't ya walkin' properly?"   
  
"I-eh, I haven't been sleeping so well. I've had about three hours of sleep every night, and I slept through Saturday, but I feel even more exhausted than before."   
  
Fuck, it was his fault, wasn't it? "M-Maybe ya should go to a doctor?"   
  
"No!" Jack raised his eyebrows, "I-I don't think this is anything a doctor could treat."   
  
"Alright, then."   
  
"So, what's a Scottish guy like you doing here in L.A?"   
  
"FER CHRISTS SAKE, I’M IRISH, NOT SCOTTISH YEH BASTARD!"   
  
Mark gaped at him, wondering what had just happened.   
  
"Sorry, ehm, sensitive subject. I'm an Irishman who is on holiday. Not a Scotsman." He said the last part under his breath.   
  
"Why is it a sensi-"   
  
"No, it's my turn to ask ya a question!"   
  
Mark rolled his eyes. "The stage is yours, Not-Scottish-Guy."   
  
"So, since ye're ill, why are ya out and about in town?"   
  
"Simple, I didn't have any food and even I need to eat."   
  
"Even I?" Yes, even I, Jack, he is a superhero. You know that, so why are you asking him about it?   
  
_Because he looks cute when he's flustered._   
  
Jack mentally punched himself.   
  
"Yes, even someone as handsome as me."   
  
"Arrogance doesn't look good on anyone, darlin'."   
  
"Everything looks good on me."   
  
"Then I want to see ya in a dress with fairy wings!"   
  
"Sure." Mark said while laughing, "It's not anything I haven't worn before." Jack joined him.   
  
"Are ya- are ya actually serious?"   
  
"It- it w-was for a dare! I pulled it off, though."   
  
Once their laughter had died down, they continued asking each other questions, none of real importance, and Jack hated every second of it. Well, he hated that he was enjoying it.

"So, Jack, what do you do in your free time?" Mark asked at one point.

"Ehm, I really like video games, they're awesome, and I've started readin' some poetry recently."

"That when from cool to nerdy real fast."

"Hey! Don't hate on Robert Frost!"

Mark rolled his eyes. "So, what's your favourite poem?"

"Do I have to have a favourite?"

"No...not necessarily, but I'm just curious."

"Hm...I'll think about it."

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, and when they arrived at the house, Mark had started to fall asleep. Jack wondered how, seeing as it only took them 25 minutes (which was probably longer than it had to be, seeing as Jack didn't know the city too well), and they'd only stopped talking a minute ago.

_Damn, he must really be tired._

Jack felt completely and utterly guilty as he stared at the sleeping form of his enemy. Because that's what they were - enemies. He leant over the armrest, closer to Mark and he shook his shoulder. Mark slowly opened his eyes and Jack let out a sigh.

"Damn, Mark, you must really be tired."

"Hmmppphhh." His eyes were starting to close again.

"Merk, ya have ta get up."

"..."

_"Merk."_

"Just- just five more minutes."

Jack rolled his eyes, and, with a lot of effort, dragged Mark out of the car.

"Now, help me with these groceries."

 

* * *

 

 

After putting all of the shopping away, everything became a tad awkward. Just a tad. You see, they were strangers. So, technically, Jack was standing in a stranger's kitchen. Great.

"You know, you're technically a stranger," Mark said, and Jack thought that maybe the hero knew telepathy.

_If you can hear this, grab the milk out of the fridge._

Mark didn't seem to hear.

"Ehm, yeah, I- eh, I technically am."

"How do I know that you're not a serial killer? Or worse, Antisepticeye."

Jack stiffened but quickly realised that that made him way more suspicious. "Does it look like I have green flames comin' out of my hands?"

Luckily, Mark laughed at that, and the villain was reassured that it was just a joke. Thank God.

“Say, Jack, would you maybe like to, ya know, get some coffee tomorrow? You could bring some of Frost’s stuff, I’d like to read it.”

No. No, no and, you guessed it, no. He wasn’t going out for coffee with his arch nemesis. Nope, that just wasn’t happening. No.

“I’d love to,” Traitorous mouth, always ignoring what he wants!

“Great! If you give me your number, I’ll text you the address.”

And that was how Jack scored a date with his enemy.

Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I-I'm not ah-", Mark hiccuped, "Assss thi....think as you drunk I am!"  
> -Mark, in this chapter.
> 
> Well okay not really but still.
> 
> Appreciate the reference.


	8. where i tried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> resist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I'm sorry for not updating in, what, like, two months? I suck, I know.  
> But it's finally here! Another chapter without plot! Ah well, next two chapters'll be interesting. By the way, the last time I updated, my note said that I'd changed the end/the plot.
> 
> I did that again. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

**"I don't want to be famous. I like to be able to sit in a cafe and watch the world go by and observe people."**

_-Sophia Myles_

* * *

 

 

 **JACK** was known to arrive to things on time. Timing was, as a matter of fact, incredibly important in his line of work. That's why he was surprised when he woke up about 36 minutes after his alarm was supposed to go of, and six minutes after he was supposed to meet Mark. He raced to his closet, throwing on some jeans and a t-shirt, silently cursing under his breath. Jack brushed his teeth and noted that 9 minutes had passed since he last checked the clock, making him 15 minutes late. He attempted to locate his collection of Robert Frost poems, but it was in vain, and he finally teleported to L.A.

It didn't take Jack too long to find the cafe. Before he stepped through the wooden doors he said to himself: _Don't be weak. Don't start liking him._  
He'd given himself a stern talking to when he got home. It sounds borderline crazy, but you have to understand, _Jack couldn't be weak._  
Friendship with the enemy is weakness.  
Finding the enemy cute is weakness.  
If they were friends, he'd have to give up his work, and he'd be damned if he were to do so.

Jack took a deep breath before entering the cafe, where he immediately spotted Marks hair.

"I didn't think you were going to show up."

He gave the hero a smile, "Well, you wanted me here, so here I am."

Jack took a seat at the table in the corner of the cafe. The cafe was quite small, the tables were incredibly close to each other and he didn't know how the waitresses made their way through. The cafe was, however, almost completely full, making it harder for the staff to get all the orders done. Small cafe, small staff. Luckily, Mark had been able to get a table that was in a corner and was blocked off from the rest of the cafe by two big plants. But the annoying thing about that wa-

"So, do you like this cafe?"  
"It's lovely", Jack said, with a smile plastered on his face.  
They looked at each other for a moment which could only be described as awkward; Mark had started fidgeting and Jack was tapping his hands on his leg, and all in all Jack was grateful for it, because this made sure that they wouldn't really become friends and that he could continue hati-

"Did you bring it with you?!" Mark shot up so quickly that Jack wasn't sure if he had used his powers or if he just had a lot of energy.

He was about to ask what he was supposed to have brought with him, until it dawned on him that the only reason why they were seated here was because Mark wanted to hear some poetry. "Ah, yeah, I couldn't find my collection of Frost's poems, so I think t'at I forgot to pack it in my suitcase-" Where the fuck did that come from? "-but I do have a few poems on my phone, I...ehm...like to write my favourite ones down."

Jack got his phone from out of his pocket and opened his notes. He did, as a matter of fact, write down some poems, not because they were his favourites, but because he couldn't get them out of his head. They'd get stuck in there like a hit song, going on endlessly for hours and hours. He found that it helped to just write it down.

The first poem he came across was Wind and Window Flower.  
"Do you want to read it, or shall I...?"  
"Tell me about it before you read it!"  
Mark looked like an excited puppy and Jack couldn't decide whether or not it was endearing or just incredibly annoying.  
"Well, ehm, I guess it's about a wind who loves a flower, but t'ey can't be together?"  
He'd ended that sentence in a question, seeing as he had never really analysed the poem and honestly thought nothing of it, so he wasn't completely sure if it was accurate. If it wasn't, he'd just write it off as his interpretation. No biggie.

"Are they going to end up together, though?"  
"Merk, this is poetry, not Disney."  
Mark, surprisingly, laughed at that, and Jack gave him a hesitant chuckle.  
With a smile, he started reading.

 _"Lovers, forget your love,_  
And list to the love of these,  
She a window flower,  
And he a winter breeze.

 _"When the frosty window veil_  
Was melted down at noon,  
And the cagèd yellow bird  
Hung over in her tune-"

"Hi, my name's Sandy, what would you like to order?"

He and Mark shared a look, not that he new what that look meant, but they shared it.

"I would like a Summer's End Latte, and you, Jack?"

"Ehm..I'll have the same."

The waitress (Sarah, Sammy, Sally, who cares?) had moved over to Jack's side of the small table and started unabashedly reading the note on his phone.  
Jack gave Mark another look, this time with a different meaning (at least, that's what he thought, he really didn't know the meaning of each and every look), but Mark just sat there, amusement clearly written on his face.

Jack was about to glare at him (Jack did know what that look meant), but was rudely interrupted by Sombra, or whatever her name was.

"Ohmygod, this is sooo good, did you write this yourself?" She gave him what she must have thought was a flirty smile, but, honestly, Jack just thought she looked like a psychopath. Giving her a bland look, Jack said:

"No, t'is was written by Robert Frost, don't know if ya've ever heard of him? He's just a famous American poet."

"Oh, him! Now I remember. God, you've got such good taste!" The giggle that followed would have made her perfect for a role in a horror movie. Jaysus, that was creepy.

"Well, I'll just get your drinks. Be right back!" She said all that whilst looking at Jack, once again using that not-so-flirtatious smile. When she left, she was swinging her hips, but Jack paid her no mind.

He rolled his eyes at Mark and would have said _'Can you believe her?'_ , if Mark hadn't spoken first:

"So, you're gay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From now on, I'm going to try to update on Saturdays. Also, if you follow me on Wattpad for some reason (my girlfriend wants to read this, but she'll only read it if it's on Wattpad), you'll have noticed that this was updated two days ago. The reason for that being that my girlfriend was so excited I just had to post it, but that I thought this was a disappointing chapter to come back with, so I thought I'd post it with chapter nine. Two days later, I still haven't really finished it, so I'm just posting it alone. Anyway, stayed tuned for next week.
> 
> Spoiler alert: it's going to be gay as fuck. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> also i just finished riverdale anD OH MY GOD JUGHEAD, THOUGH?!


	9. where i used to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an excuse: I was extremely fucking busy. I have spent the past two weeks completely redecorating my room and it has left me with barely any time (though I have been able to make two pieces of fanart, one of them is basically Brendon Urie as Anti so that's cool). I didn't want to write in the evenings when I was tired and just wanted to sleep, so it has taken me so much longer than it should have. 
> 
> This has been the first day I've been able to just sit down and write.
> 
> Anyway, I'm going to try to finish chapter ten by Saturday, but I can't promise anything.
> 
> Also, no hate towards Signe at all. She makes Seán happy and that makes me happy, this was just a spur of the moment decision.

**JACK** had known that he was gay for a while now. He was about sixteen when he first really thought about it and seventeen when he accepted it. Really, it wasn't that surprising. His obsession with Seamus, his need to impress him and make him like Jack, it all came down to a stupid crush. He knew that it was ok to be gay, really, but he didn't like talking about it. It had been used against him many times and even when he didn't know it himself, he'd been bullied for it.

The first time, he had only known what the word meant for a week. He had been nine, and, oh boy, was he a cheeky child. He'd gotten in trouble and his teacher decided that he needed a stern talking to before he could go outside again. Once she was done lecturing him about the importance of good behaviour, he had headed to their school’s playground, only to see the new kid, Keiran, being bullied by Connor and his friends.

 _“Keiran is a homo! Keiran is a homo!”_ They chanted.

You could barely hear Keiran saying that he wasn't, that he liked girls (though none of them really did at that age).

_“Hey! Leave Keiran alone! If he says he likes girls, then he likes girls!”_

That had silenced the bullies, for that was all they were, bullies.

Then Keiran stood up, pointed at him and shouted, _“Seán is a homo!”_

All his classmates joined Keiran.

They pointed.

They shouted.

They laughed.

And Seán felt tears well up in his eyes, threatening to spill.

They didn't. Not yet. They'd only do that when the bell signalled them to return to their classroom, when Seán didn't do so, when Seán just wanted to get away, when Seán was alone.

He'd been crying on the floor when he felt the ground underneath him suddenly change. He looked up and suddenly he was on the school’s roof. His eyes widened. It had happened again like it had years ago: he was suddenly somewhere else.

He stood up, scanning his surroundings. There was nobody there. Of course there wasn't, lunch break was over. An idea formed in his mind, though, a crazy idea, but an idea nonetheless.

Maybe he could do it again.

There was, however, a flaw in Seán’s plan: he didn't exactly know how he had done it in the first place. After trying many different things, like jumping up and saying ‘the magic words’, Seán started giving up. How did he do it? How?

_“Seán, where are ya?!”_

Crap, it was his teacher. He couldn’t be found on the roof — his parents would be called in, he’d get in trouble and, worst of all, he would have to go back to class. He wished he was somewhere else right this second, like in the park from when he was five. He remembered the roundabout and the swings, the slide that was attached to the small castle, the bench his mother always sat on. He remembered every single detail perfectly, it felt like it was right in front of him.

He opened his eyes.

He was in the park.

He’d teleported again, but..how?

Maybe...if he just imagined where he wanted to go...he could go there…

He decided that his best option was to test it out.

He imagined his messy room, with his Spider-man duvet cover and action figures from some of his favourite TV-shows (they were action figures, not dolls). He imagined the lone sock that was on his desk. He imagined every little thing he could remember about his room.

Then he was there.

Seán refused to believe that it was coincidence — it just couldn’t be. He pinched himself to see if he was dreaming and...Nope, he wasn’t.

He wasn’t dreaming.

Holy cra- uh...crud, he could teleport!

The incident with Keiran was long-forgotten.

 

* * *

 

 

After that day, Seán was often bullied during the breaks, leaving him with little to no friends. He was lonely. He was bored. He wished he just had a friend.

These thoughts were still ever present when he was sixteen. The guys in his class had become bigger arseholes than they already were, taunting him with whatever they thought fitting, and the girls didn’t find him attractive enough for him to be popular with them. All his siblings had moved out, gone to college, had lives of their own, leaving him all alone. It felt like the teasing was worse because he had nobody to confide in, no shoulder to cry on, nobody except his parents, who were too busy working to pay him any notice.

It had been a week since he’d lashed out to Connor with the green flames and he was still frightened. He didn’t know how or why it had happened, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to. Seán was usually not one for teenage angsty bullshit — unlike others, he tried to be mature — but this time he _truly_ felt like he was completely and utterly alone, like there was no one else like him, like he was an anomaly. Looking back, he hated this phase, but then again, it wasn’t unjustified.

Connor had backed off. He was probably scared of Seán. Seán couldn’t blame him; he would have been scared of himself.

As Seán trudged into his English class, those thoughts were racing through his mind once again. He felt dangerous. For all he knew, he could suddenly lash out like that again, causing more than a few burn marks on some lockers. He had thankfully gotten away with that — the school just blamed it on the misfits, not sweet, shy Seán McLoughlin. He sat down in the back, grabbing his books, ready to not pay attention and instead drown in the deep waters that were his thoughts. He would have done so if it weren’t for the figure that suddenly sat down next to him.

He turned his head to see who it was.

_Seamus._

Seán felt something in his stomach. He chose to ignore it because _no this is a man and you’re not supposed to feel that and besides he hurt you, don’t yo_ **_u remember?_ **

_“Uhm...hi, Seán…”_

_“H-hi.”_

Seamus sighed, fully turned his head to Seán, and spoke: _“Listen, I know ya probably hate me, and I can’t blame ya fer t’at, can I? I was a complete fookin’ bastard to ya. But I just wanted to say I’m sorry because ya didn’t deserve t’ be treated like that. A-and I was hopin’ we could possibly be friends?”_

He seemed nervous, and Seán _really_ wanted to say that _‘no, sorry, he wouldn’t forgive a bullying arsehole whom he had adored until he saw who said arsehole really was: a twat’,_ but his mouth refused to listen to his brain, and he had a feeling that his stomach had influenced his answer, because he simply smiled, nodded and said _“Sure.”_

Seamus broke out into a grin and happily grabbed his books. Jack couldn’t help but smile — this was the first time in seven years that anybody had willingly sat next to him.

 

* * *

 

 

They had been inseparable ever since. The best of friends. Every time anybody was a dick to Seán, Seamus stood up for him. Nobody dared to cross Seamus, who, surprisingly, had remained popular. Seán had even told him his biggest secret — his superpowers. Seamus was amazed and pushed him to become a superhero. He helped Seán choose his superhero costume (a grey sweatshirt and matching sweatpants), and even helped him choose his superhero name.

_“Do ya have any nicknames?”_

_“Ehm...no, not really? I mean, people call me Seánie sometimes, but that’d be a sucky superhero name.”_

_“Damn...I give up, I don’t have a name fer ya.”_

_“...Me ma calls me Jack sometimes, I suppose that’s a nickname.”_

_“I guess? But ya can’t just be called Jack. It’d ruin t’e name fer any ot’er Jack.”_

_“We could use it in the name, though, like...like Jacksepticeye?”_

_“Where did that come from?”_

_“It’s...not important. But whaddayathink? Good superhero name?”_

_“Seán, I think it’s brilliant.”_

 

* * *

 

 

He had been thinking, though, ever since that incident with Connor.

Was he gay?

He didn’t want to be gay, he didn’t want to be different.

He didn’t want to be in love with Seamus.

Because that was what he was — in love with his best friend. Seán could deny it all he wanted, he could find a nice girl to date, he could scream that he was straight, hell, he could act homophobically if he had to, but deep down he couldn’t ignore the fact that every time he looked at Seamus’ face he felt butterflies in his stomach.

He was a homosexual.

And he had fallen for his only friend.

He wanted to come out to Seamus, he wanted to tell him everything he felt, he wanted Seamus to feel the same way.

But he knew that that would never happen.

Besides, Seamus had a girlfriend. She was a beautiful Danish exchange student who made Seamus happy, so happy that he would never shut up about her, and Jack wanted to hate her guts, because _she had everything he wanted,_ but she was too damn nice.

So he just ended up being incredibly fucking jealous of Signe Hansen.

As Seán teleported into his room, he saw Seamus sitting on his bed. When his friend heard the familiar pop of teleportation, he rushed over to Seán and hugged him tightly.

_“Holy fookin’ shite, Seán, I thought ya were goin’ t’ die! Don’t ever fookin’ scare me like t’at again, ya bastard!”_

Seán hugged him back tightly, revelling in the others touch.

He pulled back, _“I won’t, I promise ya, I won’t!”_

They were both looking at the other, straight in the eye, straight into the other’s soul.

Then Seán made the biggest mistake of his life.

He leaned in.

For one moment, he was in complete and utter bliss. He wished that moment could be eternal, that time would stop and never move forward. He wished that the happiness that he felt would last forever.

But it wouldn’t.

Seamus pulled away and stared at him in disgust.

_“What the fuck, Seán? I have a girlfriend!”_

Seán’s eyes widened, and the cold waves of reality washed up on the beaches of his mind.

_“I-”_

_“Save it, faggot.”_

And with that, Seamus left, never to speak to him again.

And Seán felt tears well up in his eyes, threatening to spill.

And he was all alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to Vices & Virtues whilst writing this and I feel like Trade Mistakes suits this chapter.
> 
> Also, fuck Seamus he's a dick.


	10. where i didn't change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i said on saturday
> 
> it's a saturday

* * *

**"The greatest gift that you can give to others**

**is the gift of unconditional love and acceptance."**

_–Brian Tracy_

* * *

 

 

 **JACK** stiffened.

 

How did he know? Was it that easy to tell? How would Mark react if he confirmed the fact? Would he be disgusted? He didn’t care about Mark — _couldn’t care_ — but being called those awful names would hurt too much and he didn’t  think he could handle it. Jack would break down in the middle of the cafe and, _Jaysus,_ that would be embarrassing.

 

“If you are, I wouldn’t mind, I promise!” Mark rushed those words and Jack quickly realised that his face was showing the fear he was feeling inside. He scolded himself for that moment of weakness and sighed, before speaking again, “I...I am…”

 

Jack didn’t like acknowledging it. He knew that there was _nothing_ wrong with liking men, but all those years of being bullied for it (even without knowing it himself) had really affected him. He was constantly reminded of Seamus and how his sexuality had fucked up their friendship.

Well, his sexuality and the fact that Seán had kissed him even though Seamus was in a relationship. Technically, his sexuality was to blame for that.

 

Jack fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt, absently noting that it was unofficial Jacksepticeye merch. Oh yeah, he had seen that in a store once. Well, Seamus had seen it and bought it for him. Damn, why did he keep thinking about Seamus lately?

 

Mark seemed to notice Jack’s discomfort and redirected the conversation.

 

“Nice shirt.”

 

His head shot up. Huh, that was unexpected. “Thanks?”

 

“I may look too handsome to be a nerd, but trust me, I was a major fanboy back when he was around.” Mark was smiling now, a light in his eyes that Jack had never seen before. He looked less tired than he had earlier.

 

That didn’t mean that he didn’t look like he was going to pass out any minute.

 

“Don’t flatter yerself, ya look like a nerd”, Jack’s hands were still toying with his shirt, but significantly less. It was by no means a safe subject, in fact, it was more dangerous than the last one, but Jack could deal with dangerous — he _lived_ dangerous — he just couldn’t deal with painful. Painful hurt, and Jack didn’t want to get hurt.

 

Not again.

 

His thoughts were interrupted by Mark’s protests. “Excuse you, but I am _not_ a nerd! Also, you think I’m handsome?”

 

The superhero received an eye roll, “I never said I t’ought ya were handsome.”

 

“But you never said anything to deny it.”

 

Jack wanted to punch the smirk off the bastards face and was seriously considering it until he heard a sudden crash and people screaming. Jack whipped around. He could see people running in all directions, out of the cafe, where a window pane had shattered.

 

“T’e fuck is goin’ on?” Jack exclaimed, whilst staring wide-eyed at the chaos outside.

 

“I-I don’t know...Maybe Antisepticeye attacked again?”

 

He whipped around to face Mark, “I don’t think so. T’ere aren’t any green flames. Besides, he’s better t’an this. He has more class; he wouldn’t destroy an entire fookin’ street just t’, what, rob a bank?”

 

“Y-you have a poin—” Someone cried for help and Mark stood up faster than humanly possible.

 

In public, without his disguise. God, what an idiot.

 

“Jack, I’m so so sorry, but I’ve got to go!”

 

With that, he rushed off. Of course, because he was a fucking superhero. Jack was glad he didn’t live that life anymore.

 

He was curious as to what was happening outside, though. He got out of his seat and sauntered to the other side of the cafe (which, honestly, wasn’t that far) where the window had shattered. There were customers lying down on the ground, pieces of glass in their skin and Jack was just thankful that he and Mark were on the other side of the cafe when the glass broke. The waitresses were tending to the wounded, one of them was calling 911. There were shards of glass everywhere and Jack was sure to avoid them — he didn’t want to ruin his shoes. As he entered the streets of L.A., he heard people crying, screaming, but above all, Mark shouting.

 

“Why are you doing this?” Jack turned his head to where Mark’s voice was coming from. He wasn’t too close, but visible. Jack was looking at his back, the ‘villain’ in plain sight. The ‘villain’ was wearing a black t-shirt which said _Detonate_ and black skinny jeans, he had black hair, pale skin and dark circles under his eyes. He snorted — which idiot wore skinny jeans whilst doing...whatever he was doing. Causing chaos? Sure, why not. Jack leaned against the wall in the alleyway next to him, hiding his form from the two men.

 

“Why am I doing what?” The ‘villain’ asked innocently. He was standing opposite Mark with his arms crossed. They were on the middle of the road, though they didn’t have to be afraid that a vehicle was going to crash into them. The street was, in that sense, completely deserted, not a car in sight. The people who were in the street were helping the injured or were watching the Hero and the Villain interact, doing anything to stay out of the latter’s way. Nobody dared leave.

 

Everybody — even the ones who were in great pain — was silent, the only voices to be heard were the ones of their saviour and their assailant.

 

“Why are you attacking L.A., Detonate?” Mark was mad now, absolutely fuming. Jack assumed it was because the criminal — Detonate — was destroying his city.

 

The villain just laughed maniacally, throwing his head back whilst doing so. Everything about him screamed psychopath, from his mannerisms to how he looked and if Jack hadn’t been as strong as he was, if he had been a normal person, he would have been petrified. Even if in that alternate universe he had been in immense pain, pain that was close to torture, he would have been silenced by the fear of that man.

 

But he wasn’t a normal person. He was Antisepticeye, the most beloved villain on earth, the only _real_ villain. This guy was just a wannabe, a joke. If he wanted to destroy the city, he would do it with teeny-tiny explosions. Anti? Anti would _burn it to the ground._

 

The thought of setting the famed city of L.A. aflame caused Jack to smirk and his eyes to light up. _Jaysus,_ that would be satisfying.

 

At some point during Jack’s internal monologuing, Detonate had stopped laughing. It was the answer to Mark’s question that pulled Jack out of the sweet dream of bright green L.A. and back to reality.

 

“I’m attacking L.A. because I want to take over the world!”

 

Jack couldn’t help but laugh, the cold cackle that sent shivers down one’s spine, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mark freeze. He stepped out of the alley, viridescent fire surrounding him, footsteps resounding in the street.

 

“Ya want t’ take over t’e world and ye’re startin’ in L.A.?” He scoffed, rolled his eyes and looked up at the sky, casually sauntering down the road. “Were ya just, what, thinkin’ out a plan on how to take over t’e giant thing that is planet Earth, which holds more t’an seven _billion_ people, and decided t’at Los fookin’ Angeles was _undoubtedly the best place t’ start?”_

 

“I’m doing a better job at it than you, Antisepticeye,” The villain looked so smug at that statement, as if he was actually about to be the dictator of the world, as if nobody was able to stop him because he had some bombs (or whatever they were).

 

For the second time that day, Jack wanted to punch a smirk off of someone’s face.

 

“Do ya really t’ink t’at I’d waste me time wit’ such trivial t’ings? Who’d even want to be the supreme ruler of the world? Besides, if I did want to be it, I’d already be wearin’ a crown, honey.”

 

Mark chuckled at that, crossing his arms in a relaxed manner.

 

“ _What_ , Merkimoo?”

 

“I would stop you before you could even dream to touch that crown, Anti.”

 

“What are ya waitin’ for, then? If ya could stop me from becomin’ Lord Earth, t’en why can’t ya stop me from robbin’ banks?”

 

The hero glared at Anti, who did nothing but smile sweetly at him. Mark opened his mouth to say something but—

 

_“ENOUGH!”_

 

Detonate threw something — _a bomb_ , it was a bomb — at Mark, who leapt away just in time. The hero was flung onto the concrete, the impact causing nasty wounds. He was coughing as Detonate leaned over him, ready the throw another one, but luckily — no, not luckily, this was Jack’s enemy — Mark noticed in time and tripped the villain. He quickly stood up, walking over to the villain so that he could hold him down, but the villain was fast — almost as fast as Mark was, since the hero was in a weakened state — and he pushed his opponent against a nearby wall.

 

He continuously punched Mark in the face, causing him to bleed from his lip; he looked like he was about to pass out.

 

“Do you really think that you’re stronger than me, Anti? _I’m_ the one who is holding Markiplier, who has control over him. _I’m_ the one who can defeat Markiplier, not _you._ ”

 

Jack’s vision glitched, as if it was an old computer. It kept glitching and glitching and glitching and glitching everything was glitching except his body, that was the only thing that wasn’t glitching.

 

Detonate looked over to Anti and was caught off guard. The supervillain was teleporting — _glitching_ — towards him; one second his hand was raised, the other it wasn’t; there was a dangerous glint in his eyes, one that was fueled by complete and utter anger, nothing more, nothing less.

 

Suddenly, he stopped. He stood completely still, not moving a muscle. The only real motion he was making was his glitching.

 

“W-what is it, Anti? Do y-you wanna b-be in my place, holding y-your b-boyfriend, fag?”

 

Jack’s heart stopped beating, being replaced by blind rage, by the acidic green flames that burned through any substance. The words the villain had spoken brought him back to when he was sixteen, when he was called those things by everybody who even paid attention to him.

 

he was trembling

 

as he walked forward

 

and he punched the villain in the face

 

before jumping on him

  


and choking him

 

 **_“Ŵhø dō ŷøū thįñk ŷøū, årę? Šømę kîñd øf dēįtÿ? Mãŷbę śømęñë šęñt døŵñ tø ęãrth tø rûłē thêįr kīñgdøm ßŷ åñ ‘ãłl pøŵęrfûłl’ Gød? Hã! Ŵãkę ûp, aš íf śømêøñę łįkē thãt çàñ dêfęãt mę, thê møšt pøŵęrfùł bęïñg îñ thê ûñįvēršę! Ŷøū ãrę jūšt à pūñŷ mørtåł ŵįth ñø çøñtrōł øvęr mē.”_ ** Anti tightened his grasp on Detonate, who had started wheezing. Detonate felt the supervillain’s hands rapidly grow warmer around his throat, making the already painful feeling even more agonizing, he just wanted it to be over, _he just wanted to die already._

 

_“anti, that is enough”_

 

Anti froze. _No, that couldn’t be…_ He whipped around and looked at Mark, who, for a split second, appeared to be unsharp and outlined with blue and red.

 

Waves of fear crashed into the sands that were Anti’s mind for the first time in decades, causing him to loosen his grip on the criminal.

 

“Let him go.”

 

“S-so that he can escape? I thought you wanted him behind bars,” There was a slight stutter in Jack’s voice, a bit of hesitation. He was scared of what had happened to Mark, he didn’t know why it did, but it was just…

 

“He won’t escape, Anti. You’d kill him if he did,” It would’ve been a joke, if it wasn’t what had almost happened. Jack had almost killed a man. He’d almost been a murderer.

 

He’d almost become everything he used to fight against, everything he still would, wanted to…

 

but he just let out a chuckle, as if he found it to be funny.

 

“As if. I’m not a murderer, sweetheart.”

 

After shooting a dirty look at Anti, Mark walked over to the criminal who was lying on the ground. The hero extended a hand to Detonate as a peace offering.

 

He didn’t take it.

 

“I’m offering mercy, Detonate, I’m giving you a chance.”

 

He still didn’t take it.

 

“I can lower your sentence if you go to prison, just take my hand,” Mark’s voice had a soft edge to it, a merciful one. Jack rolled his eyes at him; the villain didn’t deserve mercy, for he’d been an idiot and got caught.

 

Jack faced Mark, turning his back to the villain for a second. He was about to open his mouth and make a snide remark, possibly dissing Markiplier and Detonate at the same time — because he was a _fucking_ boss — but suddenly everything became black.

 

* * *

 

Jack woke up in a stranger's bed with a massive headache.

 

What the fuck had he done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so exciting piece of information:
> 
> I SAW JACK, DANNY AND ARIN YESTERDAY!
> 
> I got tickets to the Ready Player 3 tour in Amsterdam and I got to be in the presence of my idols for two hours! I got a t-shirt AND A SIGNED POSTER.
> 
> I've also got a voice recording and video of Jack doing the Papyrus voice.
> 
> It was the best evening of my life.
> 
> Anyway, I'll try to finish the next chapter as soon as possible, but, let's be real, who knows when it's going to be done.


	11. where i felt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> taking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated this quite quickly, are you proud?

* * *

**"Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings - always darker, emptier and simpler"**

_-Friedrich Nietzsche_

* * *

 

 **AFTER**  Anti was knocked out, Mark handed Detonate over to the police, who had arrived a few minutes earlier. They seemed to be too caught up with his screams of protest to pay any notice to the green-haired leprebitch who was sprawled out on the concrete. Heh, leprebitch, he should use that one more often.

 

Mark crept over to Antisepticeye and picked him up in one swift movement. The villain was out cold and it didn’t look like he’d be waking up anytime soon. Before anyone could approach him, Mark ran away with Anti in his arms.

 

* * *

 

In all honesty, Mark didn’t know exactly _why_ he snuck Anti away from the police, but it was too late to bring him back now. Ha! Imagine that: _‘Uh, yeah, sorry but I may have accidentally taken the world’s most wanted criminal home. Sorry, I won’t do it next time’._

 

Oh shit. He’d taken Antisepticeye home with him.

 

He’d taken the man who wanted him dead _right_ to his home.

 

Great going, Mark.

 

He cursed as he carried Anti to the guest bedroom, laying him down on the bed and removing his shoes. Throwing a cover over him, he realised how absolutely ridiculous this was. God, Tumblr would have a field day!

 ** _M:_** _Felix, I’ve got a bit of a...situation_

 

 **_F:_ ** _wat have u done now_

 

 **_M:_ ** _I may have not-so-accidentally snuck Anti away from the police and taken him home and laid him in the guest bedroom while he was unconscious_

 

 **_F:_ ** _MARK WHAT THE FUCK_

 **_F:_ ** _WHY? WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA?_

 **_F:_ ** _IS THIS A PRANK??!!_

 

Mark quickly snapped a picture of Anti, fully realising how fucking creepy it was, and sent the photo to Felix.

 

 **_F:_ ** _1\. thats creepy af mark wtf 2. mark why 3. is he glitching irl?_

 

 **_M:_ ** _No, he isn’t. Maybe it’s his powers reacting to electronics?_

 

 **_F:_ ** _yeah maybe idk. u don’t do that tho_

 

 **_M:_ ** _So? Our powers aren’t the same._

 

 **_F:_ ** _tru_

 

 **_M:_ ** _Anyway, WHAT DO I DO?_

 

 **_F:_ ** _well shit idfk its ur problem_

 

 **_M:_ ** _wow thanks a lot_

 

He sighed and put down his phone. The only thing he could do, was to wait for Anti to wake up.

 

* * *

 

Jack looked around the room he woke up in, completely and utterly confused. It had white walls, white furniture, white everything. The only thing that wasn’t white was the carpet on the floor. To him, it seemed as if the room was for a guest, what with there being no personal or sentimental item in the entire space. Jack did the only rational thing one could do when in a situation like this: explore!

 

His feet touch the soft carpet, surprised that his shoes had been taken off, then again, this whole situation came as a surprise to him, so he supposed that there wasn’t anything else that could shock him.

As he walked to the door, he realised there was something there he hadn’t noticed before: a mirror. His eyes widened when he spotted the pointy ears, burnt sleeves and, not to mention, his one green eye. He was in his Anti-form, which made this whole situation even more confusing. Why had he woken up in a strange bed as a wanted criminal? It simply didn’t make sense.

 

Averting his eyes from his reflection, Jack opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The corridor led to a descending staircase. He stood at the top of the stairs and peered down. At the bottom of the steps, there was a white door which was strangely familiar to him.

 

_So, I’ve been here before, but when?_

 

With the only thought on his mind being _‘Fuck it’,_ Jack crept down the staircase. He didn’t know if the owner of the house was downstairs or not, but he didn’t want to alert that person of his presence. As he stepped off the last tread, he heard a voice from another room. A deep voice.

 

_Fookin’ Hell._

 

_“No, Felix, he hasn’t– why do you think I’m still wearing this? Listen–”_

 

Jack snuck into the kitchen (he knew it was the kitchen, he’d been there before), making sure the hero didn’t hear him.

 

“Felix, seriously I’ll just go–” Mark turned around in his barstool, “–Uh, I’ve got to go.” He clicked a button on his phone, presumably hanging up.

 

Jack wasted no time.

 

“What the actual _fuck_ am I doing in yer house,” He spoke these words in a cold manner, disdain dripping from his voice.

 

“It’s uh...it’s a long story.”

 

"...Did we fuck?"

 

"What? No! Dude!"

 

Jack glared at him,“Then what did we do?”

 

“...Basically, Detonate knocked you out, the police arrested him, I thought it’d be unfair for you to be arrested too, seeing as you _helped_ me, so I kind of...uh...took you home...with me…” Mark nervously raked a hand through his hair, biting on his lip a little. Cute.

 

“Wow, Markimoo, I am shocked by t’e complete brilliance of yer plan and yer trust in me. As if I won’t just find out yer address and identity like t’at.”

 

The other man’s face became pale – even paler than it already was – at that and Jack couldn’t help but laugh, other people realising how stupid they were was just hilarious.

“Don’t worry, I won’t do t’at, ya kinda saved my ass–” Though he could’ve teleported away, “So don’t worry, to make us even, I’ll leave wit’out lookin’ at yer address. Ye’re welcome.”

 

The hero rolled his eyes at that, though Jack noted his sigh of relief.

 

“Not that I’d need yer address, anyway. I’m so attractive, ye’ll probably bring me back here again. Don’t worry, It’s not just you; nobody can resist me lucky charms.”

 

Jack turned his back and teleported away with a smile. He couldn’t help it, Mark’s splutters of protest were just too adorable.

 

* * *

 

As soon as he got home, he realised that, shite, he had literally nothing to do. Video games weren’t so appealing, Tumblr would just be filled with conspiracy theories and socialising just wasn’t going to happen. He supposed he hadn’t robbed a bank in a while and he _had_ done all that research on L.A.

 

Yeah, why not? Nobody would expect him to do that so soon after being knocked out by Detonate. He supposed it could also show people that he was still the same, daunting Anti, not a sudden saint.

 

Luckily, he hadn’t bothered transforming when he got in, so he could immediately head out to rob the bank.

 

He teleported to the middle of the bank, on top of the fountain in the middle of it. He was fortunate to have such an impeccable balance, otherwise, he might have plummeted right into the water.

 

The people were doing whatever people did at banks (for a man who was often in this establishment, he knew shockingly little of it, only where the money was at), not seeming to notice him, except for an employee who had approached him a few days ago.

 

“Excuse me, sir, you have to get down from there!”

The Irish thief smiled down at her, waved and shouted: “No thanks, I’m quite comfortable up here!”

 

Some people snapped their heads to him and screamed, they probably used the internet or followed the news and recognised his loud voice and accent, not to mention his hair. Though Jack was sitting quite high up, people could still see that infamous acidic green tuft.

 

“Sir, get down from the fountain or I’ll have to call security!”

 

Jack cackled at her words. God, was she serious? As if security could do anything!

 

“Okay, okay, all jokes aside, I’m robbing this shithole,” He declared after rising to his feet, “So, who will show me to the money? How about…” Jack stretched his words, looking for a possible escort. He spotted a small, frail woman who was trembling. She was wearing the same clothes as the employee from earlier, so he figured she must work there, “You!”

 

Jack jumped off the ornamental structure and teleported behind her mid-fall. Some people whooped, possible fans of his. A few people who were in the general direction where the whoops came from were holding up phones and Jack bowed theatrically, sending them a smirk.

 

“Now, dear, show me where the cash is.” The woman led him to a small door, the mass of people parting in front of them. He enjoyed it, wanted it more often. It made his strides more confident, smirk wider, pride bigger. He craved it, was in those few seconds already addicted to the taste of it, the taste of power. In the pits of his stomach, there was something growing, almost taking over his senses. With an inwards shover, he repressed it and focussed on the task at hand.

 

The money.

 

He and his guide had finally reached their destination and Jack surged towards the money. He grabbed the bags they conveniently had in the corner and started stuffing them.

 

“Hey, miss, could ya help a guy out here? It would go _so_ much faster wit’ the two of us.”

 

The lady just stared at him with wide eyes, slowly shaking her head.

 

“Listen, lady, t’at wasn’t a rhetorical question,” He showed the flames, threatening her life. He knew it would work, it always did, it always would. Normal people were so scared of fire.

 

Tears welled up in her eyes as she stuffed the money the bags. He knew what she was thinking, he’d read it once in an interview from another ‘escort’, _‘Why me? I never wanted this! I just want to go home, I don’t want to die!’_ Of course, he wouldn’t ever kill her, at most gravely injure.

They finished packing the bags in five minutes, the quickest he’d ever done it.

 

“T’anks, sweetheart, ye’re free to go.”

 

She left the room wailing and Jack slowly followed, humming to himself as he did so.

 

Once he stepped into the main area of the bank, he was greeted with the wrong end of several guns and an exhausted Markiplier.

 

“OH FER CHRIST’S SAKE, CAN’T I JUST STEAL FROM ONE BANK WIT’OUT T’IS ASSHOLE INTERFERIN’?”

 

“Antisepticeye, surrender now!”

 

“STAY OUT OF IT! T’IS IS ABOUT ME AND THAT FUCKWIT OVER T’ERE!” Jack’s hands had started glowing chartreuse, a colour matching his right eye. Apparently, he was showing signs of aggression, for the police shot at him after he said that.

 

He stopped the bullets with a ring of fire.

 

“Anti, please, make this easy for everyone and just fucking surrender already. You’re never going to win!” Mark’s voice was tired, worn out, one that belonged to a man on his deathbed.

 

Jack couldn’t help but laugh maniacally, sending shivers down the spines of all the people in the building, “Not t’at I don’t appreciate t’e offer, Merkimoo, but I’ll decline.”

 

Jack teleported in front of him, punching him in the stomach. Mark doubled over and was kicked in the crotch by Jack’s foot. He fell onto the floor, clutching his stomach in pain, whimpering like a dog.

 

“And ye’re supposed t’ beat _me._ T’is is the best ye’ve got?!” He pointed at the police whilst saying this; they cocked their guns, _“Please,_ it’s pathetic!”

 

There were phones above the police’s heads, recording every word he was saying, ready to be posted on the internet. The faces of the owners of the phones all had one expression.

 

Awe.

 

He felt that feeling again, in the pit of his stomach, the feeling that made him want to take over the wo–

 

He saw something glow out of the corner of his eye and snapped towards the light.

 

Mark was huddled between people holding him, sitting on his hands and knees. His hands had, out of the blue, started glowing green like the fire that Anti was feared for. His face was the palest it had ever been; the bags under his eyes were darker than the night; he looked like he was about to throw up all over the floor.

 

Jack knew what was happening. “STEP AWAY FROM HIM NOW!”

 

The people around him flinched away quickly, right before his entire being was aflame. The hero started throwing up green slime that was all too familiar to Jack, who whitened.

 

_“Shite”_

 

A few seconds later, the villain disappeared, right after Mark stopped glowing.

 

* * *

 

_Seán had teleported into his room, his heart alight._

 

_“You’re ba–!” Seamus had been interrupted by Seán throwing up dark green slime all over the floor. He’d rushed over to his friend, soothingly rubbing his back. As soon as it was over, Seán had collapsed in Seamus’ arms and started to tear up._

 

 _“It hurts so much, Seamus, it hurts so_ fucking _much!”_

 

_“It’s going to be alright, Seán, it’s going to be okay.”_

 

* * *

 

Jack remembered it as if it had happened yesterday.

 

He’d experienced the same symptoms as Mark many years ago, just when his flames had started developing. Jack could only come to one conclusion: his fire had entered Mark’s body when he’d attacked him with them.

 

Jack sighed, mind already making up a plan to take them out. He was sure he could take them back, he’d done it many times before, but the problem was when he’d do it. He couldn’t just walk up to Mark and say _“Hey, I know I’m yer greatest enemy and all, but would ya mind if I just took out these acidic flames I accidentally put in yer body? Thanks mate, ye’re a real lad.”_

 

His phone lit up. It was a message from his mother, which he ignored. Under that, however, he saw that he had one voicemail from Mark. He’d completely forgotten they’d exchanged numbers.

 

_“Hey, Jack, so, uh, our ‘date’ kind of got interrupted last time, and I was wondering if we could possibly make it up sometime? You could come to my place tonight and we could play video games and watch a movie or something? I mean, only if you want to. I just really enjoy your company–”_

 

–Jack’s heart swelled at that,

 

**_and then it burned like it had years before_ **

 

* * *

 

He and Mark had arranged for Jack to come around at nine that evening and Jack couldn’t help but feel nervous when he knocked on the door.

 

Mark’s exhausted face light up when he saw the Irishman.

 

“I brought some cookies, if ya don’t mind. Family recipe!”

 

“Why would I mind cookies? Cookies are great!”

 

They shared a laugh and Jack stepped past the Hero with a smile. He hung up his coat and was about to suggest a movie they could watch, when Mark asked him if he was going to take his beanie off.

 

“Uh yeah..” Self-consciously, he pulled it off his head and hung it up. He felt his cheeks heat up under Mark’s stare, knowing if he didn’t quickly come up with a lie, his alter-ego would be revealed.

 

“Your, eh...Your hair is green…”

 

“Ehm...yeah...I...ehm...I lost a bet,” Jack fibbed, “I just try t’ hide it ‘cause it makes everybody think of Antisepticeye, especially wit’ the accent,” That was the reason he always wore a beanie, especially when around Mark.

 

The American smiled at him. “I like it, it’s cute. Suits you.”

 

They headed into the kitchen, where Jack was instructed to put his cookies.

 

“So, I’ve got popcorn, potato chips–” Mark snickered, making the connection between potatoes and Ireland.

 

“Haha, I get it, I’m a leprechaun. How original.”

 

“More like, Lepreseán.”

 

Jack felt his body tense. Nobody called him that anymore, nobody except his family and Seamus, both of them weren’t associated with good things.

 

“–Anyway, we’ve got sodas and coffee to drink, no alcohol, though, ‘cause I’m intolerant and shit. Sorry ‘bout that, I would’ve bought some, but something got in the way.”

 

“Don’t worry, didn’t feel like the booze anyway.”

 

“That’s probably the last time I’ll ever hear an Irishman say that.”

 

“Is that t’e last joke about my nationality ye’ll make?”

 

“If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll stop,” Mark hastily said, causing Jack to smile at him.

 

“It’s fine, shall we choose a movie?”

 

“Sure, I’ll take the cups and drinks, you take the popcorn and chips.”

 

The two men walked into the living room that was next to the open kitchen, carrying their snacks with them. They sat on the sofa in the middle of the room, it faced the flat screen television that hung on the wall. The room wasn’t really that colourful, mostly greys and beiges. All the cushions and blankets made the room comfortable. There was even a fireplace under the TV, though Jack wondered when Mark would need it, seeing as he lived in L.A.

 

“Okay,” Mark said, walking over with a box, “Here are all my movies, you can pick one.”

 

He peered into it, immediately spotting the original Spiderman with Tobey Maguire. He loved superhero movies with a passion, especially anyone featuring his favourite web-slinger. He supposed it was the reason why he had been a superhero in the first place, that and Seamus. He hadn’t seen it in a while, though, so it would be a nice throwback.

 

“This one, I’m always a slut for Marvel.” Mark burst out in laughter at that statement, before putting the disc into the DVD player.

 

“So...how was your day?” He asked whilst the pre-movie ads were playing.

 

“It was...eventful I guess. A...friend of mine stayed at my place and they only woke up at two in the afternoon, so I spent my morning waiting for him to wake up. Then, not even half an hour after he had left, he got into a bit of trouble with the authorities and I had to help out.” Jack was inwardly laughing; Mark had called Anti his _friend_.

 

“Sounds like t’at friend’s a bit of a troublemaker.”

 

“You have no idea,” Mark took a sip of his drink before continuing, “How was yours?”

 

“Not that interestin’.  I read poetry for the most of it.”

 

“Frost?”

 

“How’d ya guess? Anyway, I found a poem t’at I recognised from school.”

 

“What poem?”

 

“Can’t remember what it’s called, but I do remember the last stanza. _The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have–”_

 

 _“–promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep._ I knew I recognised Frost from somewhere!”

 

“I’m proud of ya fer rememberin’ somet’in’ ya learnt in school, unlike the rest of us.”

 

Out of nowhere, Mark had started violently coughing, making Jack nearly jump out of his seat.

 

“Jaysus, Merk,” Jack said after the coughs had subsided, “Ya scared the life outta me. Are ya okay?”

 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine, just a cold.”

 

The Irishman frowned, staring at him in concern, “I...I could make ya some tea, t’at might help? It’s what me ma always did when I was ill.”

 

“That sounds amazing, thanks,” He said with a grateful smile on his face.

 

“Be right back, call me if t’e movie starts.”

 

Jack practically ran into the kitchen, grabbing the teabags he had in his pocket for if this would happen. It was all part of his plan to take the flames out of Mark’s body.

 

Just as the movie started, Jack reappeared. He handed Mark a cup of tea and took a sip of his own. “This tea’s really good, Jackaboy.”

 

“Thanks, now shut yer face, t’e movie’s started.”

 

During the first hour of the movie, Mark had started to drift off. Jack supposed he’d had a long day – goodness knew he’d had one – and with the flames slowly growing inside his body, it was probably more tiring.

 

Once the film had ended, Jack switched the TV off and turned to Mark. Now, to call back the flames. He positioned himself in front of Mark’s face, focussing on the flames that resided in the other’s body. He could feel them, he could feel _his_ flames in another being, and he slowly pulled them out. He could see the Hero sweating, could see him thrash around as if he was having a nightmare. His weakness made Jack stop. Like it or not, he’d started to care for his enemy and it _hurt_ to see him in pain like this.

 

For the first time in years, he felt guilt.

 

And he felt it burn his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3.000 words later
> 
> i'm really fucking proud of this like holy shit that's a lot of words
> 
> Also, I'm going to change the title to 'You Saved The World From Me' in the next chapter, just so you're warned.


	12. where you told and i almost did

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it smart to post it now and not at the end of the week? No. No, it's not.

* * *

**"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,**

**Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before."**

  _-Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven_

* * *

 

 **JACK**  woke up in a house other than his own the second day in a row. House, not bed, because he had awoken on a couch this time. And on a person.

 

Somehow, this was a lot worse than yesterday, because this time, he had not only awoken in the house of his enemy, he had woken up _on top of his enemy._

 

If there was a God out there, he’d be laughing his arse off.

 

Jack made sure to remove himself from his position _immediately._ The only thing going through his mind whilst he made his way to the kitchen was _‘why’._

 

His only consolation was that Mark would never know.

  


Mark woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs. He jumped off the couch and very nearly ran to the kitchen. There, he was greeted with the sight of Jack scrambling some eggs.

 

“I see you’ve made yourself at home.”

 

“Top of t’e mornin’ to ya too, Merk.”

 

_“What?”_

 

“It’s a stereotypical way to ‘good morning’ in Ireland, surprised ya didn’t recognise it, wit’ all yer Irish stereotypin’.”

 

He ignored the last part, “Well, top of the morning to you, Jack.”

 

Jack smiled at that, something he’d been doing more often when talking to Mark. He liked the Irishman’s smile, really, it made him happy that he could make someone feel...well, happy.

 

His friend served him some food, before sitting down at the breakfast bar with a plate himself.

 

“So, how’d ya sleep?”

 

“Pretty well, I had a bit of a nightmare but...it just turned into a dream again after a while. Pretty refreshing. You?”

 

“I slept well too, thanks. Yer couch is too comfortable, might have t’ steal it.”

 

“You Irishmen and your stealing,” Mark rolled his eyes. His smile faded, though, once he was reminded of the ever-looming threat of Antisepticeye.

 

“Not all of us are Anti, Merk. Jaysus, yer stereotypes are gettin’ offensive.”

 

Mark rolled his eyes, thinking of a witty retort, something like ‘well, maybe you should tell him that he should stop robbing banks’, but couldn’t come up with anything.

 

“Anyway, how’re feelin’?”

 

“Better, really, your tea helped.” He sent Jack a smile, before being interrupted by a phone.

 

“Sorry, let me just get that…” As soon as Mark saw that it was Felix who was calling him, he went to a different room. He never knew what the Swede might say – or worse, what he might let slip.

 

“Hey, Felix, what’s u–”

 

_“MARK THERE’S THIS GIRL, MARZIA, AND SHE’S REALLY CUTE AND A FAN OF MARKIPLIER AND I TOLD HER I COULD GET HER HIS AUTOGRAPH AND SAID SHE COULD MEET HIM. HELP ME OUT, SUPER BRO!!!”_

 

“...I didn’t realise me being a superhero was a way for you to get a girlfriend.”

 

_“Well, duh, what other good could come from it?”_

 

“I’ll come over with that autograph later, Felix. It’s not just for you, but for me as well, I’d rather you bother someone else when you need a lift.”

 

_“Nah, bro, you’ve got super speed.”_

 

“I’m not a taxi. Anyway, I’ve got a guest. Wingmaniplier will bring the autograph later.”

 

_“THANK YOU, DEAR SAVIOUR MARKIPLIER, YOU'VE REALLY SAVED MY L–”_

 

Mark hung up, anxious to get back to the kitchen.

 

When he turned around, however, he found himself face to face with Jack.

 

“I...ehm...I’m sorry, I wanted to ask where t’e toilet was and then I may have overheard part of yer conversation wit’ yer friend and...Damn, Merk, I knew ya were super, but this is a whole new level.”

 

The only reaction he could give was that the bathroom was at the end of the hallway.

  


Jack hadn’t been lying when he said that he needed to go to the bathroom and that he’d accidentally heard Mark say that he was a superhero. A lucky coincidence, he supposed, because now if he let something slip about knowing that Mark was a superhero, it’d be because he officially knew.

 

After going to the toilet, Jack made his way back to the kitchen, where he found the hero sitting on a bar stool with his head in his hands. Slowly, Jack made his way towards him.

 

“Merk…”

 

“Please, just...don’t tell anyone,” His voice, however muffled it was, sounded exhausted. Jack knew how stressful this could be when telling someone willingly, but to have it discovered like this...it must be awful.

 

Guilt gnawed away at him, he should’ve walked back to the kitchen when he realised what the conversation was about, not stayed while he knew immediately that it would have an effect like this on Mark.

 

“I won’t,” He said softly, gently placing his hand on his frie– Mark’s shoulder, “I’m sorry for intruding like that, I should’ve just waited fer ya t’ come back.”

 

Mark shot up at Jack’s words, surprised by what he’d said, “No, no, Jack, it’s my fault for being so careless! How could you say that it’s your fault?”

 

“You weren’t careless, Merk, ya even went t’ anot’er room!” Both men sighed.

 

After a few minutes, Jack snuck a glance at Mark, “So, what’s it like, being Markiplier?”

 

“It’s... _amazing,”_ A smile crept up his face, “It’s everything you’d think it’d be.”

 

“I don’t think I could imagine havin’ superspeed, dude, seriously.”

 

“It’s not just that, it’s healing powers too. Throw a chainsaw at me and I’ll be completely healed three seconds later! It works on illnesses too, so I’m basically never sick.”

 

“...Except for now…”

 

“Ah, yeah…” Mark’s smile diminished, “I think...that Anti did something to me. Yesterday, I….well, I threw up this...green shit and my hands had these...these green flames. He just...he seemed to know what was happening. The tea seemed to help, though, so maybe I could throw it at him to defeat him.”

 

“It’s only my tea t’at helps and, before you ask, I’m not makin’ three million litres.”

 

“God damn it, I thought I could finally beat the little shit!”

 

“How is it, though, havin’ a ‘mortal enemy’?” His curiosity towards Mark’s opinion on his alter-ego had existed ever since he met him in civilian form. He wanted to know what Mark hated _most_ about him, just so that he could do it _more_.

 

“I wouldn’t call him my ‘mortal enemy’ or ‘arch-nemesis’ or something. He’s not worth that title.”

 

Wow. Ok. Offensive. “Pretty sure he’d disagree. And t’at doesn’t answer my question.”

 

Mark chuckled at his comment, “I dunno, it’s...stressing, I guess. I mean, I’m lucky he isn’t a serial killer or something, but I suppose Anti is more psycho than a murderer–” Jack snorted, “–His flirting does get old after a while, though. It’s getting really annoying.”

 

“Aw, that sucks, Markmellow!”

 

_“Jack, no, I’ve had enough of flirting Irishmen!”_

 

“Dude, I just called you Markmallow, chill.”

 

_“Anti always calls me Marshmallow I’m not CHILL!”_

 

Jack chortled at the ridiculous expression on Mark’s face, which was one of exaggerated anger.

 

“Oh my– Y-You’re expressio–” His sentence was interrupted by Mark rushing to the bathroom, a hand in front of his mouth. Swiftly, Jack stood up and followed the hero, who was leaning over the toilet, vomiting the green goo as he had done the day before.

 

“Shite, Merk…” Jack placed a soothing hand on his back, offering him the comfort that had been given to him when he was going through the same thing. He knew how disgusting it was, how painful. He knew how terrifying it was and felt the fear from when he was a teenager make it’s way back into his head.

 

After Mark had finished throwing up, Jack wrapped his arms around him. Mark, in all his warmth, held on for dear life. The villain felt his shoulder dampen and Mark shiver in his hold, sobbing uncontrollably.

 

 _“It hurts so much, Jack, it hurts so_ fucking _much!”_

 

_“It’s going to be alright, Mark, it’s going to be okay.”_

 

* * *

 

The past comes back to haunt you. It always does, in many ways, shapes and forms. In words, actions and feelings, the past takes one final shot at you before leaving. One could say it’s an eye for an eye, you did something bad in the past, so now it’s payback time. Karma, really.

 

The past haunted Jack with memories, words and, most recently, feelings. One feeling, really.

 

Guilt.

 

If he could, he would take back all the flames he’d ever thrown at Mark, take back all the pain he’d caused him, take back everything he’d ever said and done. The man was too good for all this pain, he didn’t deserve it!

 

Jack did, though, Jack deserved every piece of it.

 

Maybe Karma thought that too, because it came with pain.

 

Pain in his heart, hands, feet, head, every bit of his guilty being.

 

But it was fair, for one who hurts others does not get off scot-free.

 

* * *

 

Weeks passed, three to be exact, and every night Jack teleported into Mark’s bedroom and took out some of the flames that had entered his body. Every other night, Jack stopped by to watch a movie or play some video games with the American, who he’d begrudgingly started calling a friend.

 

Every time he thought that, though, pain shot through his body.

 

Jack had stopped robbing banks, at least until Mark was better again.

 

But it was taking too long.

 

If he kept going like this, he’d be removing flames from Mark for _years._ Doing it in small doses was also incredibly ineffective, it would be more desirable to do it all at once, even if it caused the most excruciating pain imaginable.

 

**_The end justifies the means._ **

 

And with that thought in mind, Jack teleported to Mark.

 

* * *

 

He could find Mark because of the constant updates on Fan-Blogs dedicated to Earth’s Lord and Saviour Markiplier (their words not his). Many people were uploading videos of the Hero fighting a criminal on Tumblr, however dangerous it may be. The man Mark was fighting adorned a pink moustache and was incredibly trigger happy. He went by the name ‘Wilford Warfstache’, Jack couldn’t help but wonder if that was his real name or just an alias he’d thought up.

 

He could tell Wilford was completely psycho, what with the pink moustache and love for bullets, but he wasn’t scared of him at all. Why would he be; he could eliminate the guy in seconds. As he teleported into an alleyway, he could see the people sneakily record Mark’s victory and Warfstache’s arrest. When the psychopath was taken away, they cheered for Mark, who turned around, only to be faced with an enemy he hadn’t seen for weeks. Anti slipped further into the alley and Mark couldn’t help but follow him. They walked until they were out of anyone’s sight.

 

“Nice seein’ ya again, Markimoo.”

 

“What do you want, Anti? And where have you been, it’s been weeks since anybody’s heard from you!”

 

Jack shifted onto his other foot before answering, “Ya’ve got somethin’ of mine, Markiplier, and I’d like it back.”

 

He tilted his chin upwards, trying to express confidence though he didn’t have any, before pulling his flames out of Mark.

 

His friend screams of anguish ripped through Jack’s soul, tearing him apart whilst he could only watch his friend slowly be tortured. His mind was racing and he felt himself slowly slipping away, felt his own thoughts being pushed to the back of it, being suppressed by something far more powerful. He was completely and utterly numb.

 

Anti raised his eyes to meet Mark’s, who was black and white, outlined with blue and red, as if he was 3D. Anti’s blood ran cold. **_Dark._ **

 

He couldn’t avert his eyes from the crouching figure, whose cries grew louder every minute.

 

_“PLEASE STOP JUST LET IT STOP”_

 

His voice was echoing now, and Anti’s thoughts were confirmed.

 

**_Dark._ **

 

Then it stopped.

 

Mark stopped shaking, was no longer outlined, Anti let go and Jack could think his own thoughts again.

 

Slowly, he crept forward and asked Mark one simple question.

 

“Are...Are you okay?”

 

His enemy’s head snapped up, _“What?”_

 

Jack realised his mistake and teleported away.

 

The guilt was still eating him up, but now it was accompanied by something else, something worse.

  
  


Fear.

 

* * *

 

After Anti left, Mark fell down again. He was drained, completely and utterly drained, he couldn’t move anymore, he just wanted to sleep.

 

Eventually, he heard footsteps approach him and help him up. They start to ask him what happened, concern lacing their voice. He absently notes their police uniforms as he answers their questions. They tell him that the chief wants to see him and he agrees to go with them. They drive to the police department, all while Mark is consumed by his thoughts and fatigue. In all honesty, he just wanted to see Jack. For him, Jack was the one normal thing he had in his life, the only person (apart from Felix) who he could confide in. Their friendship was incredibly special to him, one of the two things Mark couldn’t live without (the other being Chica).

 

The police officers took him to their chief, who had an offer for Mark.

 

“Now, you don’t have to accept this offer, but I thought a change in clothes would be nice. Your t-shirt and sweatpants, however comfy, must be incredibly impractical when fighting armed criminals. So I asked a few of my friends if they could possibly design a real-life superhero costume.”

 

Mark perked up at that, “Are you serious? That’s awesome!”

 

With a new found confidence, the chief handed him a box, letting the hero open it himself.

 

It was a lot like Spider-Man’s costume, if he was honest. It was only completely black and devoid of any decorative webs. Instead of the big spider on the front, it had Mark’s signature ‘M’ with a pink ‘stache. It was flexible, perfect for fighting crime with. The mask was like the one he was wearing, the only difference being that it was in the same material as the rest of the costume.

 

 _“This is amazing!_ How much does it cost?”   


“Consider it a gift,” The chief hesitated before continuing, “Markiplier, the bureau wants to pay you for your assistance. We know that this all comes from your generosity, but we don’t want to lose you. You’re a valuable asset and the sacrifices you make for humanity should be repaid, not ignored!”

 

“I... _thank you so much!”_

 

“There’s only one thing...you’d have to tell us your identity. We promise you that it won’t get out, it will be our most well-guarded secret, but without it, we won’t be able to pay you.”

 

Oh. Of course, that made sense. He wanted to earn money from what he was doing, rent was hard to pay and living on money the game store paid him. He hadn’t  been there for almost a month, seeing as he’d barely been able to leave bed. He was sure the chief would protect his identity and make sure he wasn’t broke. It didn’t seem like he could lose, but fear still nagged at the back of his mind.

 

After a few minutes of deliberation, he’d made up his mind, “I accept your offer. My, er...actual is Mark Fischbach.”

 

“Well then, it’ll be a pleasure to work with you, Mr Fischbach.”

 

* * *

 

_Jack was walking through a dark, empty room with nothing there but himself. It was completely silent, only his footsteps could be heard. He walked and walked and walked for goodness knows how long, until he heard a heart-wrenching scream. He whipped around, suddenly on a rooftop, faced with Detonate, who had Mark pinned to the ground. Wilford Warfstache soon joined them, shooting bullets at Mark who immediately healed. They were destroying him, torturing him, and Jack was begging them to stop, to hurt him instead, but they didn’t seem to hear him._

 

_After what felt like hours, they were pushed away and Jack felt relieved. It was only for a second, though, because he then saw Anti enter the scene and grab Mark by his throat, holding him over the edge of the building._

 

_“No!” I screamed for the umpteenth time, but it was to no avail. Anti didn’t seem to hear him, or maybe he was ignoring him on purpose._

 

_“Jack, please…” Mark whispered,_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_before being thrown from the building_

 

* * *

 

 _“MARK!”_ Jack shot up, being woken from his nightmare.

 

Slowly, it sank in.

 

He cared about his enemy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys don't get how hyped I am for the next chapter. 
> 
> Seriously.
> 
> Also, I'll be in Poland until Sunday, so I don't know if I'll have a chapter prepared soon, but I'll try to have it up asap.
> 
> Thank you guys for your nice comments, they honestly make my day! Hope you don't mind the name change, it just feels...more original, I guess.


	13. where i was a fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i’m

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, finally, it's here! (it was supposed to be twice the size of this but then i realised that it would take 10000000 years and that it would generally be better if it was just...split in half)

* * *

**"And then I felt chills in my bones, the breath I saw was not my own"**

_-twenty one pilots_  

* * *

 

 **_M:_ ** _Hey, Jack, would you mind coming over? I kinda need someone right now…_

 

 **_J:_ ** _be there in a sec_

 

* * *

 

 **MARK** sat motionless on the sofa with a cup of coffee in his hands. He didn’t move – couldn’t move – until Jack entered his house with the key he’d been given. His friend’s arms encircled his body in a tight embrace and Mark finally released all of his pent-up emotions. He’d remained strong for the past few weeks, acting as if he wasn’t concerned about anything at all, acting as if it was something he’d get over and he bounce back unharmed, but it wasn’t. Anti’s flames had been in his body and he felt completely and utterly violated. A part of his enemy, the most despicable part, had been subjecting him to merciless torture for weeks and he’d been oblivious to it, just assuming that his body was having a hard time healing him. He’d –  
  
“You wanna talk about it?” Jack’s voice murmured into his shoulder. Mark had been so caught up in his own mind that he’d forgotten that the Irishman was there – an uncommon occurrence, to say the least; Mark was always aware of Jack’s presence.  
  
“It’s –” Mark choked on his own breath, “–...Anti’s flames were in me, t-they’re the reason why I’ve been so ill these past couple of weeks. _His fucking flames were in my body and I didn’t know!”_

 

“...Do ya still have his flames?”

 

“No...he…he took them out of me after they arrested Wilford Warfstache. He...he led us a-away from the public and h-he said I had something of his. He th-then…” Mark couldn’t finish the sentence, he couldn’t continue, he couldn’t remember it. His tears stained Jack’s shoulder, who tightened his grip around him even more.

 

“Merk...t-tell me about something else then, like...how you decided to become, well, Markiplier.”

 

“I-I haven’t told y-you yet?”

 

“No, but I’d like t’ hear about it. At least, if ya don’t mind.” Jack’s voice was soft, calming Mark down slightly. Why he decided to become a superhero was a safe subject, one he enjoyed talking about. It came as a surprise that he hadn’t told his Irish friend; it was such a big thing in his life and they shared almost everything with each other, even though they’d only met a few weeks ago. He took in a deep breath and started speaking:

 

“When I was a-about nineteen, I went to college to become an engineer. I might have been one if I hadn’t entered my superhero phase. I’d...ehm...I’d just f-found out about my powers and...well, I k-kind of needed someone t-to relate to. So, uh, one day, I saw this guy online somewhere. He was, like, this real-life superhero with powers and I became obsessed with him. I wouldn’t stop talking to Felix about him. He, uh...you wore his shirt once, when we met in that coffee shop. Jacksepticeye…”

 

He vaguely noted the arm around his neck stiffened, the body he was lying on tensed up, but his former idol quickly erased any thought of Jack’s arm around him. Once again, a very uncommon occurrence.

 

“Y-yeah, my, uhm, my friend, Seámus he...he saw it in a shop, got it fer me.”

 

“Hmmm...so, where’s Seámus now?”

 

“I...I don’t know, haven’t talked t’ him in years…” Jack released a shaky breath, “When...when I was nine, m-my class started bullyin’ me. Called me gay. I didn’t know t’en, but...Anyway, when I was sixteen Seámus came up t’ me and apologised fer all of it, asked me if I wanted t’ be friends. I said yes, we were best friends fer a while before...before I kissed him. He had a girlfriend at the time, so it was a shitty move, I know, but I didn’t expect him to hate me, because after I did it...he...walked out, called me a faggot and never s-spoke to me again...It’s funny, really,  how much that comment affected me.”

 

Mark understood exactly what his best friend meant; he hadn’t directly experienced verbal abuse of that kind, but had heard from people who had far too often. That might be the reason why Jack tensed up anytime he saw anything remotely romantic between two people of the same sex, or Mark tried to get him to open up about his love life – past and present. “Jack...it’s ok to be gay. Seriously, Seamus is just a dickhead, you shouldn’t listen to words he said years ago. You shouldn’t feel ashamed because someone just betrayed you!”

 

“Thank you, Merk…”

 

Mark cleared his throat, “Do you remember those videos Jacksepticeye posted on YouTube a few years ago?” Jack nodded, “If you’d like, we could rewatch them?” He nodded again, a nostalgic smile gracing his lips.

 

Mark pulled his laptop onto his knees, about to type in the link to the channel when he heard the familiar tones of Skype ring through his living room. Without thinking twice, he answered the call.

 

_“MARK SHE AGREED TO GO OUT WITH ME! MARZIA AGREED TO GO OUT WITH ME! THANK YOU SO MUCH YOU SUPER BUTT! I’VE FINALLY GOT A GIRLFRIEND!!!”_

 

“Hello to you as well, Felix. Oh, yeah, Felix - Jack, Jack - Felix.”

 

_“Wait, is this the same Jack you talk about all the time? Have you finally decided to introduce me to your boyfriend?”_

 

“I...uh…” At this point, the two mens’ cheeks were a deep red.

 

_“WELL, MARK, LET ME SEE HIM!”_

 

After looking at Jack for confirmation, he turned the computer screen towards him.

 

“Hi!” Jack said. Felix’s eyes widened for a split second, _“Uh, d-damn Mark, you got yourself a handsome one. Might have to keep him for myself.”_

 

“Pfft, you wish; you’ve already got Marzia, you fucking meatball. Speaking of Marzia, tell me more about her!” He slid closer to Jack, so that they could both see the Swede. Their legs were pressed against each other, bare arms touching, they were so close that if Mark were to turn his head, his nose would brush the other’s cheek. His heart was pounding in his chest, louder than ever before, as if he were about to fight a criminal who could defeat him any minute.

 

 _“She’s gorgeous! Like, the mos–”_ A ding sounded from Jack’s phone.

 

“Ah, shite, t’at’s me; I’ve got t’ go to a family lunch. My...uh...sister lives near L.A. and has invited me over. Sorry dudes. See ya ”

 

“Don’t worry, Jack, I’ll talk to you later.”

 

_“Yeah, don’t worry, bro, it was nice to meet you.”_

 

“Nice t’ meet ya too, Felix. Bye!”

 

With that, Jack left Mark’s house.

 

“So, whaddaya think?”

 

The Swede's expression turned serious, _“In all honesty, Mark, I don’t trust him. Something about him seems...off…”_

 

“Stop being such a drama queen, Felix, you never like anyone I introduce you to.”

 

* * *

 

Something felt off. It may have been because he talked about Seamus, or maybe because he was headed to a family dinner (with his parents, not his sister, and definitely not in L.A.), but something didn’t feel right. He supposed he could blame it on the fact that he was (well, used to be) Mark’s inspiration, but deep down he knew it was something else. Jack shook it off – paranoia wasn’t good for anyone – and continued walking.

 

He never immediately teleported to his parents’ house anymore, he just walked. He needed to have a level head before engaging in an evening of forced pleasantries and bad memories. In the few months they had been friends, Seamus had really squeezed himself into every bit of Jack’s life. Almost everything he did reminded him of Seamus, everything except his criminal lifestyle. It was like a coping mechanism, he supposed, something that could relieve all of the stress life could bring. It was also like a drug, incredibly addictive, and though you knew it was wrong, you couldn’t stop. The money was just an excuse, it was the rush that kept you going.

 

His old house’s front door came far too soon and Jack considered just teleporting away and walking back again, but it was too late – his mother had already opened it. “Seán! Come in, sweetheart, come in!”

 

He tried not to flinch when his name was mentioned, but he couldn’t avoid his breath hitching a little bit. His mother didn’t notice it, though, she never noticed anything. That was the fault he saw in his parents – their kids were all so perfect, they failed to see whenever something was wrong. Their children didn’t cry on the shoulders of the adults, they cried on the shoulders of their siblings. But after they’d all left home, Jack had no shoulder to cry on.

 

He took off his jacket and hung it on the coatrack, shoving his beanie in the pocket as his mother went into the kitchen. Jack took a deep breath, then another, not ready to follow her just yet. He pulled out his phone one more time, seeing if any of his (few) contacts had messaged him.

 

_“Seánie, dinner’s ready!”_

 

 **_M:_ ** _Have fun at the dinner, Jackaboy!x_

 

Maybe Jack could survive this evening after all.

 

* * *

 

“So, Seán, have ya met a special lass yet?”

 

Or not.

 

His eyes widened, a flustered blush gracing his cheeks, “I...eh, no. I...I haven’t met anybody recently.”

 

“T’at blush on yer face says otherwise, son, now tell me about t’e lucky lass!”

 

“T’ere isn’t a lucky lass, dad, I swear.”

 

His parents hummed, before continuing with their meal.

 

The silence was suffocating and Jack was starting to wonder why he even came. He and his parents didn’t get along, they’d never learnt how to, so it was this painful every time he came over for dinner.

 

He preferred to skip Christmases, never knew what to get them.

 

“Do ya remember Seamus and Signe, from school?” _How could he not?_ Jack replied with a curt nod, “They’re engaged now, t’e whole town’s invited to the weddin’.”

 

His breath hitched. For years, his only comfort was that their relationship was a high school has-been, something that would only last till they went to university, he would have never expected that one day they’d get married.

 

“Speakin’ of t’e weddin’, Seamus came by last week, askin’ us t’ extend t’e invitation fer ya,” His mother continued, “Maybe t’e weddin’ll inspire ya t’ find a nice girl.”

 

“W-Wait, Seamus wants to invite _me_ t’ his weddin’?”

 

“Ye were good friends, Seán, of course he wants t’ invite ya! Signe wanted ya there as well, apparently. It’s on the 26th, make sure ye’re here at 11:00.”

 

“What if I’ve got plans then, Ma?”

 

“Cancel them! Yer friend is gettin’ married and ye’re gonna be there. Besides, ya can take whoever ya had plans wit’ to t’e weddin’, he said ye could take another person as a guest.”

 

“I’ll text ‘m now, I guess..”

 

 **_J:_ ** _been invited to an old friends wedding, can take a friend. pls dear lord and saviour markiplier, be my +1 and SAVE ME FROM THAT AWKWARDNESS_

 

After sending that message, Jack reread the one Mark had sent right before he’d put his phone away. ‘ _Have fun at the dinner, Jackaboy!x’._ He replied with a salty ‘i’ll try’ before noticing the X behind the text. Was that intentional? Probably not, he’d just forget about it, no need to get his hopes u–

 

“When did ya dye yer hair green, boy?”

 

“A while ago, Dad, for a dare.”

 

“Dye is back, ye look like t’at barbarian Antisepticeye.”

 

_Barbarian? When had he ever done anything to be called a fucking barbarian–_

 

“Besides, ya can’t show up t’ a weddin’ like t’at, what will t’e town _think?”_ His mother added.

 

“Maybe I can decide for myself what I want t’ do wit’ my hair! Besides, ye never cared about what I did when I was young, **_SO CAN YA PLEASE STOP PRETENDIN’ YA DO NOW.”_ **

 

_“Seán–!”_

 

“I’ll see ya on t’e 26th.”

 

And with that, he left.

 

* * *

 

It had been a long day, he needed to relieve some stress, so robbing some random, British banks sounded like a _really_ good idea. The first two went without a hitch: he teleported, took the money, brought it home and left a note for the probably confused bankers. The third one, however, went a little differently. He’d stolen the money easily, but as he teleported outside to leave a nice, little note on the bank doors, he was suddenly pushed against them.

 

His attacker was blond, but that was all Jack could see since the man had his head down.   

 

_“I know who you are!”_

 

“WELL OBVIOUSLY YA DO, DIPSHIT, I’M ALL OVER THE NEWS NOWADAYS. NOW LET ME GO YE FUCKTARD!”

 

“No, Jack, I know it’s you!” It was then he noticed his assailant’s accent.

 

Swedish.

 

_Fuck._

 

“I’m giving you two options,” Felix said, finally raising his head, “One: You stop messing around with Mark, and I’ll keep your secret; Two: You continue to talk with him, and I’ll tell. You’ve got a month.”

 

Shit. Shit. Shit shit SHIT! He’d fucked and he’d fucked up bad, Jesus Christ, he’d fucked up bad. The air began to feel a little thin, his whole body tense and he couldn’t think anything anymore except for the simple words ‘No please’. His whole mind went blank, he couldn’t move, air wouldn’t enter his lungs anymore and no please no please no please _no please no please please please please please please pleASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEA–_

 

**_“Įf ÿā dø åñŷ øf t’ät, Į prømįšē ÿā, Fęłîx Kjęłłbērg, Ï ŵįłł būrñ ŷà, Ì ŵīłł bürñ ēvęrŷthįńg ŷā håvę, êvęrŷøñe ŷà łøvę, Į ŴÏŁŁ BÛRÑ ĮT ÅŁŁ.”_ **

 

The Swede gulped, eyes widened and Anti couldn’t help but smile, fear was such a beautiful sight.

 

“I- I’m not scared of you, Jack!”

 

 **_“Of course ye’re not scared.”_ ** He pushed Felix to the ground, stepping over him. **_“No, ye’re absolutely terrified.”_ **

 

Anti teleported away, and Jack felt thankful for that moment he’d lost control and Anti had taken the reigns. He would’ve lost his best friend if he hadn’t.

 

It was a good thing Anti was there.

 

A good thing. 

 

~~not a good thing at all~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My girlfriend hates me for making Seamus and Signe marry.
> 
> Oh well. 
> 
> I'll try to update sooner but I can't promise anything oops.


	14. where i broke my only promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5000 something words
> 
> it took over a month
> 
> but it's finally done

* * *

**"The heart was made to be broken."**

_–Oscar Wilde_

* * *

 

 

**“HE** broke your heart, yet you’re going to his wedding, Jack. You’re going to see the guy you loved get married, that’s like salt in the wound!”

 

“Keyword: Loved. I’m over him now, Mark, and I t’ink he might want to rekindle our friendship, seein’ as he actually went out of his way to ask me t’ere.”

 

“Or he’s just being a dick and inviting you so that he can break your heart again!”

 

Jack sighed, it was the third time that week they’d had this discussion, and he was starting to get tired of it. He knew Mark had good intentions and he appreciated them, but it was exactly the opposite of what he needed. He himself wasn’t one hundred percent sure what Seamus’ intentions were. 

 

“That was years ago, we’ve both grown up. We’re grown-ups now! Adults! I know him, and even at the time he wouldn’t even have considered doin’ t’at.”

 

“Seán, he stabbed you in the back when you were most vulnerable, is that the Seamus you know?!”

 

“Please don’t call me that,” Every trace of anger that had been on Mark’s face disappeared when he heard Jack’s pained whisper. The Irishman knew he sounded like he had been stabbed with a knife, or something equally painful, and, though some might call it overdramatic, that was how that name felt, especially from the mouth of someone he l– cared about. It was as if he’d be hurt any minute, as if he was going to be told their friendship was all a massive joke. His – no,  _ the  _ – name was associated with Seamus, who had wrecked it for him, so he did what everyone did with wrecked things, he threw it away.

 

“Shit, Jack…”

 

“He used to call me t’at, he called me that right before...Listen, Mark, I haven’t forgiven him fer what he did, but I know it’s also my own fault. I’m not even sure if he actually wants t’ be friends again. I’m really fookin’ confused and emotional at t’is point, so this argument isn’t really helpin’ me right now, and all I really need is someone who’ll be t’ere fer me if everyt’in’ goes t’ shit...Please, Merk...can ya just...pretend t’ think he has good intentions?”

 

“I...fine, I will, but if things go to shit, I will punch him.”

 

A grin found it’s way onto Jack’s face, “That’s why I invited ya, everyone needs a good ol’ superhero like Markiplier t’ protect ‘m!”

 

* * *

 

Mark looked very handsome in his black tuxedo, his red hair surprisingly complementing it. Jack himself was wearing a dark blue tux and had chosen to put on his glasses for this event. His hair, unpredictable as ever, was curly and in all honesty getting on his nerves. He thought he looked like a joke. Mark had assured him he looked positively sexylicious.

 

“That isn’t even a word,” Jack rolled his eyes, trying to fix the mess.

 

“You’re a higher level of sexy, it needs a new word, so now you’re  _ positively sexylicious.”  _

 

“Shut up, ya big goof.”

 

“Stop doing that to your hair,” Mark said, stepping in front of him and grabbing his wrists to prevent any further movement, “It looks great.”

 

Jack’s heart skipped a beat. His breath was caught in his lungs and he was paralysed by fear. 

 

_ Why _ was he feeling this?

 

They stared at each other for a few more moments, before Jack interrupted their silence, “Freshly mown grass, the latest fashion.”

 

“Hmm, I don’t know, fire hydrant red is also pretty popular right now…” Mark chuckled and stepped away, grabbing his bowtie from the bedside table.

 

“Yes, everyone’s hair at Seamus’ weddin’ll look like either blood or a Christmas tree. There is no in between.”

 

A comfortable silence ensued, in which Jack made one last attempt to fix his hair and Mark made his even more perfect than before. He had pushed his hair over to one side, looking fluffy and messy in an attractive and deliberate way – it would surely make anyone swoon. Jack felt proud that he could take him to the ceremony and show him off to everyone.  _ Hey, look here, remember when you called me queer in high school? Remember when you smashed me into lockers? Well, look at me now, bringing the man who is more attractive than your whole family as my +1 to the wedding. Suck on that! _

 

“Now, Mark, we’re going to go over t’e rules. Number one, don’t call anyone a leprechaun. It’s...well, not really  _ fine,  _ but more acceptable when you do it to me, but with ot’ers...yeah, no-go-zone.

 

“Number two, no insultin’ Seamus or Signe. It’s the happiest day of t’eir lives and we’re not going to ruin’ t’at.” This incited a sigh from him, followed by a nod of agreement.

 

“Number three, don’t...don’t mention t’at I’m...gay. I..ya know I still haven’t completely accepted m’self and havin’ my parents know…” Jack’s voice cracked a little, “I’m just not ready…”

 

Mark leaned forward a little, reaching out his arms slightly as if he wanted to give Jack a hug, but Jack had his arms wrapped tight around him and had turned away from the American.

 

“Got it...shall we go to your parent’s house, then? I promise the speed won’t mess anything up.”

 

He cracked a smile, “Sure, let’s get t’is Hellish day of holy marriagin’ over wit’!”

 

* * *

 

Mark had gotten on very well with his parents, since he was such a charismatic and funny guy. He’d kept them all entertained and it was probably the most comfortable Jack had felt around them in a long time. 

 

Soon enough, they were walking towards the wedding venue, the two friends following Jack’s mother and father. His parents were talking about how lovely Seamus’ family, the Foleys, were and informing Mark about what their friendship had been like.

 

“He’d come over every day, really, and t’ey’d hang out in Seán’s room fer hours on end, gigglin’ about anythin’ and everythin’.”   
  


“Good lad, he is, glad to see him end up with such a nice lady.”

 

“Yes, she is, isn’t she? Brings cookies t’ t’e women’s book club every Friday, really good cook, as well, I hope Seánie finds someone like her someday.”

 

Mark shot him an uneasy glance, but Jack kept walking with an emotionless expression, trying to keep the building tension inside of him from showing.

 

“Mmm, finding someone who’s a good cook would be handy, though whenever he comes over, he does make the most amazing spaghetti I’ve ever tasted. His muffins are delicious as well.”

 

“Jaysus, Merk, no need t’ suck up t’ me t’at much. Besides, y’ make mean dumplin’s yerself.”

 

“Do y’ remember when you and Seamus tried makin’ some? God, t’e mess ya made in t’e kitchen was insane.”

 

“..Of course I remember, Ma.”

 

The whole conversation went like that, lasting for an entire twenty minutes until they arrived at the wedding venue – an old castle – by which time Mark had linked his pinky with Jack’s. He’d looked up at him, surprised by the action and, of course, freaked out because  _ what if anyone saw?  _ But the kind look in the hero’s eyes soothed every bit of panic and tension in his body.  _ They were fine. _

 

They had to separate them soon enough, though, since Jack’s mother turned around to them.

 

“Now, I’ll leave ya t’ go chat wit’ everyone and write somet’in’ in t’e guest book. Have fun, and Seán, make sure ya say hi t’ all of yer old school friends.” ‘ _ So, nobody then’  _ Jack thought drily, but he just nodded.

 

Once his parents had headed in, Mark directed his attention to him, “That was...fun…”

 

“If t’at was fun then t’is whole day’s goin’ t’ be t’e best day of me fookin’ life.”

 

“If anyone says  _ anything  _ shitty to you, I wi–”

 

“Superblast them out of existence? Not if I’m first.” 

 

A playful grin was shot at him, “I’m the one with super speed, trust me, I’ll be first.”

 

“Fine, shall we…?”

 

“Only if you’re ready.”

 

Jack took a deep breath and walked into the castle, immediately spotting the guest book. It was quite intimidating, standing on a pedestal with a bright light shining on it and a big, purple quill beside it. The walk towards it was slow in his mind, though it probably only took seconds in reality. The stone floor underneath resounded when his feet stepped on it, shallow breaths leaving his lips. The quill in his hand was soft, not at all threatening, but picking it up was scarier than anybody he had ever fought.

 

His hand shook as he wrote.

 

_ Our plan for me to take you to Vegas failed. Too bad, maybe for the after party? _

 

“Do you want to explain?” Mark’s soft voice echoed in the empty room, startling Jack, who dropped the quill.

 

He took a deep breath, and then another one, “It was...kind of our inside joke. When we were talkin’ about him and Signe we’d always say how I-...we’d go to Vegas when t’ey got married and if she didn’t agree, we’d go fer t’e afterparty.”

 

“If you want, we could go for the after party? If it all goes to shit, that is.”

 

“Gladly.”

 

They shared a look and Mark put his hand on Jack’s shoulder, softly pushing him to the end of the hall, where loud chatter could be heard. A few heads shot up when they walked into the room, some of them familiar to Jack, but most people didn’t even seem to notice. 

 

It was like his last year of school all over again.

 

There was a lump in Jack’s throat as they headed to the bar in the corner. It was a big room, clearly not where the ceremony would be held, but it was a good place for the whole town to have a welcoming drink. The walls were decorated with beautiful tapestries, depicting a large variety of scenes, from fields with beautiful flowers to tragic Greek myths. Somehow, the cold stone building was made a warm place.  

 

“Seán McLoughlin? Is t’at you?” A familiar voice called from behind him.

 

“Keiran?”

 

“Holy shite, man, it’s been years! What have ya been doin’ all t’is time?”

 

Jack couldn’t breathe. This was the man who he’d saved from Hell, only to be pushed in himself. He was one of the few guys who hadn’t stopped bothering him after he’d befriended Seamus. 

 

“I...eh, I’ve been travellin’.”

 

“Never t’ought ya’d be one t’ do t’at.”  _ Well, you never really got to know me when banging my head against locker doors.  _ “Then again, we’ve changed a lot since school…” He cleared his throat, “Anyway, who’s t’is?”

 

“Mark, met him in America.”

 

“Keiran Quigley, nice t’ meet ya.”

 

Mark shook his hand, “Mark Fischbach, the pleasure is mine.”

 

A silence followed.

 

“Sooo, Seánie, is Merk ya boyfriend?–”

 

There was a malicious undertone to his words, one that reminded him of the days that this was his life. Constant jabs at his unconfirmed sexuality, never-ending. Never stood up for.

 

“–’Cause, ya know, I remember ye bein’ quite a fag, back in t’e day.” Keiran’s lips quirked up, a sparkle in his eyes just  _ daring  _ him to  _ fight back for once in his life. _

 

He was a fighter. He’d become a fighter. He was one of the most feared people on earth, no one wanted to cross him, for they knew no one would  _ survive _ crossing him.

 

But he didn’t, because he was the boy he was in high school again, weak and naive. Never would he even think of fighting back.

 

“Are ya showin’ yer pride through t’at green hair by lookin’ like an actual fairy. T’at’s pretty queer–”

 

“I think that’s enough, Keiran.”

 

Mark’s low voice rumbled. The burning eyes left Jack’s face and redirected their attention to the American, the action not reducing the tension in his body at all. Mark’s fists were clenched, his jaw locked and his eyes shooting flames at Keiran, whose eyes had widened significantly and mouth was slightly opened, “I-I’m sorry, what did ya say?”

 

“I said that you should shut the fuck up before I punch the shit out of you, Keiran.” Mark’s voice was eerily calm, his quiet threat even more impactful. It made one’s hair stand on end.

 

“Jaysus, man, calm yer tits, I was jokin’.”

 

“Well, it wasn’t very funny, was it?” Jack spat out.

 

Quigley rolled his eyes, mumbling a quick ‘whatever, McLoughlin’ before walking away. A shaky breath left Jack’s lips as he closed his eyes.

 

“...That was shit.”

  
“Welcome t’ my daily life for nine years. T’is was only small fragment of it.”

 

He didn’t have to open his eyes to know that Mark’s face was one of pity.

 

“At least I had ya t’ defend me t’is time. Thank ya, Mark. I’m glad ye’re here.”

 

“I wouldn’t ever miss a wedding. Have I ever told you about that time my friend, Jenna, invited me to her  _ dogs’  _ wedding?”

 

The next few minutes they spent talking about the various weddings they’d both been to, giggling about Jenna and her dogs. A few people walked past and asked the same questions Keiran had, only leaving after they were answered, not making fun of him. Maybe it was because Mark stood beside him like some type of guard dog, letting them know that if they threatened him, he wouldn’t let them get away with it easily. Or maybe they’d grown up, unlike Keiran fucking Quigley.

 

After his former classmates had all been given satisfactory information, Seamus’ mother, Patty, came by to see her former second son. As soon as he saw her heading towards them, a wave of nostalgia flooded over him. Patty had been his mom when his actual mother wasn’t. She’d adopted him with open arms into their small family of two (figuratively – Seamus was the one who had actually been adopted), letting him stay overnight whenever he needed. She was the only person in this town who he’d ever told his sexuality, his questioning of it, because he didn’t believe his actual mother would listen or accept him. Patty did. That had been a few weeks before he’d made his fatal mistake. 

 

When she reached them, Patty pulled Jack in for a hug. Her arms were as warm and welcoming as ever, comforting him so much. As they separated, her hands made their way up to his cheeks.

 

“Oh, Seánikins, I’ve missed ya so much! The house has been awfully quiet without ye t’ere.”

 

A faint smile graced his lips as he replied, “I’ll make sure t’ come around soon.”

 

“Now, who’s t’is handsome young man ye’ve taken t’ me son’s weddin’ and where can I find one fer meself.”

 

“This is Mark, and, before ye ask, no, Patty, t’ere’s nothin’ happenin’ between us.”

 

“Shame, I’d love t’ have a son in law. Ah well, what am I complainin’ about? I’m gettin’ a daughter today!”

 

Jack grinned at her, noticing from the corner of his eye that Mark was mirroring his expression.

 

“Ya know, I’d always thought ye and Seamus’d end up toget’er. Ye had somet’in’ special, somet’in’ rare.”

 

They did. They had had the most special thing of all. “Ah, he’s handsome, just not me type. I prefer guys who actually like guys, ya know?”

 

At that, Patty looked like she was about to say something, but she refrained from doing so at the last minute. How odd, Jack thought, and he would have asked about it, if Patty hadn’t interrupted his thoughts by saying that the ceremony was about to start.

 

“Ye can sit next t’ me, he wants ya up in the front, he said, like he’d promised. He also said something about Vegas after t’at, but wouldn’t explain. Gone crazy wit’out ya, I swear.”

 

They walked through the big double doors, a few people following them. Slowly but surely, everybody was trickling in, some of Seamus old friends from school showing them where to sit. 

 

Then he met Seamus’ eyes, and, holy shit, the world stopped. 

 

His brown skin was as beautiful as ever, his eyes still making Jack melt after all these years, and his body had gotten even more muscular.

 

He was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous.

 

A giant smile made its way onto Seamus’ face, finishing the job  _ of fucking murdering him. _ He, though dead, smiled back.

 

“Seán!” Seamus ran down the aisle to him, pulling him into a big, firm hug. His warmth surrounded Jack, who couldn’t help but melt into the embrace.

 

It was exactly like Jack remembered it being. Seamus’ comforting smell was the same, his hugs having just the right amount of pressure and his shoulder comfortable to lay his head on.

 

“I’ve missed ya so fookin’ much,” Was whispered into his neck. 

 

“I’ve missed ya too, ye fookin’ bastard.” He whispered back.

 

They stayed in their embrace for a couple more moments before pulling away. Patty and Mark had made their way to the seats in the front row, leaving one space between them, which Jack suspected was for him.

 

“We should catch up later, but I’m kinda...busy now.” Seamus said, pulling his attention away from his mom and his friend.

 

“Yeah, of course, thank you for invitin’ me, by the way.”   
  
“It’s me weddin’, Jack, of course ye’re invited.” He lowered his voice, “Now, take me t’ vegas fer t’e after party?”

 

Jack erupted in laughter, then promised to take him at some point during the wedding.

 

They walked down the aisle together, Jack turning left to the seats and Seamus returning to his earlier spot underneath the arch.

 

“May I expect ye t’ still become me son in law?” Patty murmured as he sat down. 

 

“Shut up, Ma.” 

 

They giggled and continued their nonsensical conversation until the music started. The big doors, which had been shut after everybody had entered, opened and in came Signe Hansen. She was wearing a long, white, fluffy dress, adorned with glittering lace. Her hair was in a complicated bun and she was carrying white flowers. 

 

He looked over at Patty, who was beaming at her. As much as she joked about Seamus ending up with him, he could see that she adored her soon to be daughter-in-law.

 

As Signe stepped up to the altar, something in his stomach twisted. It may have been the way the groom’s face lit up when he saw her, or how this eerily resembled his fantasies as a teenager, but he wanted to hurl.

 

Mark must’ve seen his expression, since he snuck his hand over to Seán’s. He intertwined their fingers, holding on tightly. 

 

Jack’s breathing returned to normal, his grip on Mark’s hand loosened and his vision could focus on the scene before him again. It was okay.

 

_ "If any of you has reasons why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace." _

 

In that moment, 

 

Jack did something completely and utterly unexpected.

  
  
  


He held his peace.

 

* * *

 

They moved into the dining room area of the former castle, where a plethora of round tables were placed. In the middle was the biggest table, which was the only one with red flowers on it, the others had white.

 

Patty led them to said table, telling them to, once again, take a seat next to her. Across from them were people Jack identified as Signe’s parents and her old friends from high school. The only one he could name was a blonde, though only by nickname. Peebles was what her friends called her. She’d sat next to him in chemistry one year, she seemed nice. The rest he couldn’t name; he hadn’t paid a lot of attention to girls in high school.

 

Next to them were a few guys he recognised, as they were Seamus’ old friends from his teenage years. Connor was sat there as well, softly sipping on his drink.

 

They were talking amongst themselves, about how beautiful the ceremony had been and such. Jack introduced his friend and suddenly they were thrown in as well, completely invested in the gorgeous red flowers that matched Mark’s hair. 

 

Finally, after ten minutes, the doors opened to dramatically reveal the bride and groom. Hand in hand, the couple walked towards their table, wearing identical grins. Seamus beamed at Jack when his eyes found him, though this time not because it was Jack whom he laid his eyes upon.

 

Signe sat down, Seamus remained standing. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I would speech, but by this time I imagine everybody’s fookin’ starvin’–” Chuckles were heard, “So we’ll be startin’ off wit’ some appetisers and then move ont’ some embarrasin’ stories!”

 

As soon as he sat down, the room started chatting again and the table he was sat at rushed to congratulate Seamus and Signe, who both eventually started separate conversations.

 

“So, Seán, when’re we goin’ t’ Vegas?”

 

“Fer t’ honeymoon. We’re goin’ toget’er, whet’er Signe likes it or not.”

 

They chuckled, sharing a look.

 

“Fine, but at least make up fer ruinin’ me marriage before it’s started by introducin’ me t’ yer friend.”

 

“Ah, yeah, t’is is Merk,” Jack looked at his friend lovingly before redirecting his attention to Seamus, “We met in L.A. He was drunkenly buyin’ his groceries.”

 

Mark rolled his eyes, “Just to clarify, I wasn’t drunk, just ill. He likes to say I used to drink a little too much during the day and that  _ he _ became my new alcohol, thus ending my addiction, even though I can’t drink without having to go to the hospital.”

 

“All part of curin’ ye of yer alcoholism, Marki, makin’ ya aware of yer problem is important.”

 

An amused look appeared on Seamus’ face, smiling at his former best friend, “So, are ya toget’er, or…?”

 

“Neh, I don’t like redheads. Too...superhero-y fer me.”

 

“And I don’t like Antisepticeye wannabes, you dick.”

 

“Jaysus Christ, they’re in love, aren’t they, Ma?”

 

Patty let out a giggle, agreeing with her son. Mark and Jack, on the other hand, let out indignant splutters of protest, but to no avail; the Foleys continued with their teasing.

 

_ “Mark and Seánie, sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” _

 

Jack leaned over Patty to poke Seamus in his side, but he backed out of his reach into Signe’s side. 

 

“Signe, SIGNE HELP ME  _ HE’S TRYIN’ T’ KILL ME, SIGNE HEEEEELP!!!” _

 

She broke out into a fit of laughter, only able to lovingly pat his head, “I’m sorry, dear, but you’ll have to fight this battle yourself.”

 

After Jack had poked him, he sat back and looked at the pair. They were cute together, obviously in love. They would last long together.

 

And he was ok with that. 

 

The courses were eaten, provided by the town’s best chefs. They were delicious, a meal that wouldn’t be forgotten and Jack ended up stealing bits from Mark’s plate (the sausages were delicious, and he couldn’t help it, he  _ was _ a thief after all!).

 

Then Seamus stood up and clinked his glass, somehow catching everyone’s attention.

 

“Now would be the time fer everyone t’ carry out t’eir prepared speeches and say a nice word about us and how we’ve impacted ya or somet’in’, but since Signe and I love games, we’ve decided t’ make a game out of speechin’.”

 

“The rules are simple: if someone calls your name, you deliver a speech, then call someone else’s name.”

 

The husband turned to his wife, “Now, if you’ll start us off by choosin’ t’e lucky person who can deliver the first speech.”

 

Signe rolled her eyes, before directing them at the people before her. She scanned the crowd, most of whom were shrinking away, avoiding being chosen, until her eyes finally landed Jack. Her lips widened, a mischievous grin appearing on her face, “I choooooose….Seán!”

 

_ Fuck. _

 

Jack stood up with more confidence than he actually felt, mentally shooting daggers at the happy couple. He wasn’t good at making speeches at all, so starting off this game? Nope, not a good idea for him at all. 

 

He didn’t have a choice in the matter, though.

 

Jack cleared his throat, “So, eh, just a disclaimer: I have never done a weddin’ speech before. Ever. So if t’is sucks ass, I’m sorry, but ya can blame our happy couple. So, I t’ink I’m supposed t’ say some’tin’ about Seamus and Signe, like a good memory? That’s not t’at hard, cause I think that everybody here knows t’at they’re some of the best people you’ll ever meet. Now, I haven’t seen them in a few years, but in school, Signe was always the girl who’d smile at ya in t’e hallway, even if ya’d never talked t’ her before. If ya’d missed class ‘cause ya were sick, she’d always come up t’ ya when you were back and give ya t’e notes and tell ya what ye’d missed. She was always really sweet, no matter who ya were. I’d watch yer back if I were you, Seamus, there are so many guys here who are envious of ye.”

 

Seamus shot a proud look at his wife, who gave him one of her prize-winning smiles in return.

 

“Now, Seamus, time t’ talk about you. I’ve got so many t’ings I could say, so many memories I could recount. Embarrassin’ ones, as well, so many embarrassin’ ones. Like t’at time when a Yorkshire Terrier chased ye int’ a tree. T’ose dogs are tiny, dude! 

 

“But I suppose…” He glanced down at his hands for a second, “I suppose t’at’s not really a big part of who ya are. You are t’e guy who invited someone...someone who made a dick move t’ yer  _ weddin’ _ , someone who ya hadn’t even talked t’ fer years. Ye were willin’ t’ give me a second chance, somet’in’ t’at I wouldn’t give t’ me meself.

 

“Now, Seamus and Signe, I hope ye have a happy marriage and...and t’ank ye for invitin’ me t’ see t’e start of it. To many happy years!” Everybody raised their glass alongside him and repeated the words he said. Jack sat down with a smile on his face and called the name of one of his former classmates to be the next one to talk.

 

Seamus’ eyes didn’t leave Seán’s face during that person’s entire speech.

 

* * *

 

For nearly the whole wedding so far, Jack had been fine – happy even, but as the first chords of  _ Over the Rainbow  _ were strummed, he felt like breaking down.

 

Seamus and Signe were swaying to the song for their first dance, looking like untouchable angels sent from the heavens above. They were glowing. 

 

It was unfair, though, because this was Jack’s dream from when he was younger. He had dreamt of him and Seamus swaying to this exact song on their wedding day, he had dreamt of burying his head into Seamus’ shoulder, he had dreamt of everything that was happening now, except with him in Seamus’ arms and not Signe fucking Hansen.

 

It felt so unfair, even though they were so obviously happy together.

 

It hurt to watch, but he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t grab for Mark’s hand. He couldn’t do shit, except watch the only person he’d ever loved living Jack’s fantasy.

 

“Jack…” Mark spoke, lips next to his ear. He turned around to face the superhero, finally noticing the tears streaming down his face. He wasn’t sobbing, just crying silent tears.

 

“Let’s...let’s go to the bathroom, ok?” Jack nodded and followed Mark to where he presumed the toilets were. They were luckily able to slip away unnoticed, as they were standing at the very edge of the room, next to the door.

 

He entered the cool bathroom, closing the door behind them and moved over to the sinks. Jack splashed some water on his face to help him calm down a little, but found that it barely helped at all.  

 

“Are you alright?” 

 

“I just...I wasn’t prepared t’at t’ey’d chosen that song. I’m fine, though, completely fuckin’ fine.”

 

“You’re still crying, Jack. You’re not fine.”

 

Jack whipped around, “Well maybe I just want to fuckin’ pretend!” 

 

Mark was clearly taken aback – perhaps he wasn’t sure how to deal with this kind of attitude, especially with Jack. Or perhaps it was just Jack’s sharp tone, slicing through his friend like a knife. Whatever it was, Jack hoped it’d keep him  _ away.  _ He needed to be alone right now and this wasn’t helping him. 

 

“I...Seán…”

 

_ “Don’t ever call me by t’at fuckin’ name ever again!” _

 

“I’m just worried, okay! I’m worried and I just want to help you, but you’re pushing me away right now, Jack, and I can’t help you like that!”

 

“I DON’T WANT YER FOOKIN’ HELP, MERK, I DON’T WANT IT. I NEVER ASKED FER IT. I NEVER ASKED FER ANY OF T’IS!” Jack leaned on the sinks, staring at the toilet doors for a moment, catching his breath. He looked back at Mark, “Just...just leave me alone.”

 

Mark took a step forward, before closing his eyes and turning around without saying a word, leaving Jack alone in the fucking bathroom, where something inside of him shattered into a million pieces.

 

And to make matters worse, he blacked out, and the next thing he saw

  
  


Was the dead body of Seamus Foley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It'll probably take me a while to update again, seeing as I have a few important tests next week. I hope you guys enjoyed it, if you did, please leave a comment; they make my day!
> 
>  
> 
> btw i'm falling into the marvel hole and iron dad is best dad this was a psa


	15. where i remembered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> weak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys this was literally written in three days i kid you not. i should try to do that more often...then again, i did have like three free days. anyway, i hope you guys enjoy!

* * *

  **“Cold hearts brew colder songs”**

_–Panic! At The Disco, Let’s Kill Tonight_

* * *

**_  
THE_ ** _world keeps spinning. It doesn’t stop, it just keeps moving. It’s hurting my eyes a little, there are tears coming out of them. I’m dizzy. Because of the world. It keeps turning and contorting and it’s confusing the hell out of me. I can’t focus on anything and my thoughts are even more of a mess. I just want it to stop. The thoughts keep coming._

 

Why him? Why not me? What the fuck did I do?

 

_It’s because of him I’m like this. But then again, I caused him to be the way that causes me to be like this. At least, I think I did._

 

_It’s only been thirty seconds. Numbers aren’t messing up right now, they’re painfully obvious. It’s only been thirty seconds since I woke up and got myself into this state._

 

_My hand is reaching out to where I presume he is, trying to reach him, but I can’t move. I’m stuck. I’m stuck. I’m stuck and this is my fault._

 

_My eyes are working a bit more and I see my hand is shaking now. I can also feel my cheeks, they feel wet. Damp. Something is streaming down them._

 

_I feel my breath catch in my throat as my vision sharpens to show him properly. It’s a shock. It’s a memory. It’s my fault._

 

_I hear a moan escaping my mouth and it hurts to listen to. It sounds strained and raspy and it’s quivering. Just like my hand. Scratch that, just like the rest of my body._

 

_A pained sob leave my lips when I can see him clearly. He isn’t moving, he looks peaceful. Asleep. I want to sleep. I want to sleep and never wake up again. That would be lovely. But I’m stuck. I need someone to help me. I need a hero to save me._

 

_I feel something else now. It shoots through my chest and shatters it to pieces like an arrow would thin glass. Another moan, louder and longer than the last, escapes me. It hurts. Everything hurts._

 

_I can’t stay here._

 

_I need to leave._

 

_It’s my fault._

 

* * *

 

The phone rang thrice before the recipient of the call picked up.

 

“I don’t really wanna talk right now, Jack.”

 

Jack gulped, words unable to form as he sat hunched over in his dark kitchen. He didn’t know what time it was. “I...I know, I just…”

 

“...” Nothing could be heard from the other end, silence giving his racing thoughts more space in his head. One would have thought that in the whirlwind of thoughts Jack would have been able to find one coherent enough to say, but he kept drawing up blanks. Except for one he hadn’t come to terms with.

 

“Seamus is dead.” His voice cracked on the last word, he hadn’t accepted it, not even after seeing the still body himself, he didn’t know if he could ever accept it.

 

“What?” Disbelief.

 

“He’s...can ye come over, please?”

 

“I’m...yeah, of course.”

 

Jack finally hung up and buried his head in his hands, a fresh onslaught of tears streaming down his face.

 

* * *

 

_I’m scared._

 

* * *

 

Mark was quick as always. Of course he was; he had super speed. Not as fast as teleportation, but he was there in under a minute. Jack was still counting. The numbers wouldn’t stop.

 

_Thirty minutes since I left the bathroom._

 

The doorbell rang and Jack had to force himself out of the chair. He barely had the strength for it, he barely had the strength for anything. Yet still, he managed to make his way to the door and open it, not caring about this red eyes and his tear-stained face.

 

Mark walked in and reached out to Jack, but Jack had already made his way back to his earlier spot at the kitchen table, hunched over once again.

 

“What happened?” Mark asked tentatively as he sat down opposite Jack, who couldn’t meet his eyes.

 

“I don’t know.” Jack managed to bite out, before building up the will to continue, “I just know t’at- t’at he’s dead.”

 

A silence encompassed them.

 

“I don’t want t’ be alone...” He murmured.

 

Mark reached out to him again, this time he didn’t move away.

 

“I know.” This was all he had to say to make tears stream down his face again.

 

* * *

 

_I think it’s me._

 

* * *

 

After that, Mark had offered to stay with him, or they could head to Mark’s house and he could stay there. Jack had muttered that the latter appealed to him more and they’d made their way over there.

 

Whereas it had been nearing midnight in Ireland, in L.A the sun was still out, albeit low on the horizon. The weather was a stark contrast to Jack, dull and subdued as he was. The sun, however, did nothing to lift his spirits. He started to wish it wasn’t there at all.

 

Mark led him to his front door with two fingers on the small of his back. Usually, he would have freaked out. Now, he didn’t even notice. He felt numb as he was sat on the couch and was handed a cup of tea, which he cradled in his hands. Mark put on a movie. He recognised it, had seen it before, but if asked he would not be able to recall the name.

 

They sat there in silence, Jack’s head resting on Mark’s chest. Mark was running soothing fingers through his hair, trying to relax Jack. He kept sending him concerned looks that Jack pointedly ignored, feigning interest in the film instead.

 

He grasped the basic concepts. He vaguely remembered the characters’ names. He noted that they were superheroes and wasn’t surprised; he and Mark watched a lot of superhero movies since they were both interested in them. Usually, they were delightful and would immediately make him a bit more cheerful, but as the main character on screen flew into what would be certain death, he wished it was him. Then it wouldn’t hurt so much anymore.

 

“Oh, Jack…” He heard Mark say as Mark wiped the tears off of his face. He hadn’t noticed he’d started crying.

 

Strong hands picked up his small form and carried him up a flight of stairs, before laying him down in a bed. He was tucked in, wished goodnight and left alone in the dark room.

 

It took him hours to fall asleep. Three hours, nineteen minutes and forty-five seconds, to be precise.

 

He still couldn’t stop counting.

 

* * *

 

 **_HIS_ ** _vision became red, his mind filled with rage._

 

How dare he. How _fucking_ dare he. He could have lived knowing he’d never have a chance, but this? This was pure torture. As if his day hadn’t been hellish enough already.

 

In his mind, he shouted offence at Seamus, punched his face until it bled and ripped off his head. He hurt him to make up for the pain he’d been caused, he hurt him so much that Seamus would be begging him to finish him off. He hurt him, but it wasn’t nearly as much as he’d been hurt by the man.

 

In reality, he gave Seamus a sickeningly sweet smile. “I’m glad ye’ve come t’ terms wit’ it. And...I’m sorry fer all t’e trouble I’d caused.” Empty words filled with fake forgiveness and meaningless promises. As if he would ever think a nice thought about the man again.

 

“I’m glad too, but I can’t help but think if I’d come to terms wit’ it earlier, we could’ve been somet’in’, ya know? I liked ye well enough, just didn’t realise.” His insides burned at the confession the other man made, his rage reaching a new high. The bittersweet thought of what could have been was infuriating enough, but laying it out in front of him...It made him **_livid._ **

 

“But now ye’re married t’ Signe, and t’is part of yer life is unexplored.”

 

“Well, not completely, ye kissed me t’at one time, remember?” As if he couldn’t. As if he couldn’t _fucking_ remember.

 

“Sorry fer t’at, by t’e way.” He was sorry. He was sorry he’d done that to himself. He was sorry he’d allowed Seamus to hurt him that way.

 

“Doesn’t matter, all forgiven now. Besides...I sometimes wanted t’ kiss ye after ye came back from an outin’.” Secret code for his superhero endeavours in his youth. Because Seamus remembered. Of course he fucking remembered.

 

“Really?”

 

“I was scared shitless half of t’e time, didn’t know if ye’d be alright.” Seamus let out a laugh at that, “But...what happened? I mean, ye disappeared and t’en...ye started robbin’ banks.”

 

“I need t’ make a livin’ somehow, Seamus.” There was a warning in his voice, _stop now_ it said. But, Seamus being Seamus, didn’t pick up on it.

 

“I know, it just feels...wrong...Especially wit’ ye bein’ friends wit’ Mark and all...What, ye thought I wouldn’t notice? Come on, dude, ye bring a guy wit’ red hair as a guest t’ my weddin’. It’s kinda obvious. Besides, me knowin’ who ye are kinda adds a bonus factor.”

 

“Pretty ironic, isn’t it?”

 

“So fuckin’ ironic.”

 

“He looks up t’ me...t’ who I _used_ to be.”

 

“He could look up t’ ye again, ya know, if ye’d start...bein’ good again.” _No. No fucking way._ Seamus was pushing all of his buttons in the wrong way, infuriating him to no extent. He wanted to eliminate the fucker, wanted to show him that he couldn’t control him like that. **_Nobody controlled him like that. Not now, not ever._ **

 

A sly smirk made its way onto his face, a calculated move, “Fine, I’ll stop. On one condition,” Seamus waited with bated breath.

 

_“Kiss me.”_

 

“What?”

 

“Kiss me and I’ll stop. I’ll go good.” His voice had a different tone to it, like a stranger’s voice in his ears. He was encouraging, flirty and malevolent at the same time. But Seamus didn’t seem to pick up on that last part, though. **_Good._ **

 

Seamus pushed himself off of the sinks he’d been leaning on, slowly making his way towards him. The smirk on his face grew as the other man approached him, sensing near victory.

 

They were close to each other, so fucking close and Anti could feel Seán’s nerves. It was okay, though, because he was there, and he’d do everything for Seán. Seán didn’t have to worry.

 

Seamus had a determined glint in his eyes, Anti noticed once he was closer. Determined and yet oh so unsure. The maddening war that seemed to be going on inside his mind only made Anti happier and happier. He reached up to Seamus’ face, granting Seán control again. Not complete control, he would never do that, but enough.

 

Seán stroked Seamus’ jawline as he was pulled closer, the other’s hands resting on his lower back, firmly holding him in place.

 

Seamus was the one who took the plunge, interestingly. Anti had thought that Seán would be the one to go in for the kiss first, but it seemed that maybe Seamus cared more about him than he’d let on. Interesting.

 

Their lips moved together perfectly in sync, practically made for each other. They held each other close and he felt Jack’s bliss as he tasted Seamus’ sweet lips on his own.

 

Seán was so happy. But when Seamus would pull away, he wouldn’t be. He would be devastated.

 

Luckily, he knew what was best for him, so he took back control.

 

Anti started chuckling and grabbed Seamus’ collar. He didn’t pull away. “I never really liked ye t’at much, Seamus.” He murmured against his lips, keeping Jack’s voice.

 

“You see, ye hurt him on so many occasions, even wit’out realisin’ it. Not sure how much I appreciate t’at.” His voice remained deep and quiet. Threatening. He could feel Seamus trying to push him away, but he wouldn’t let him.

 

“T’en again, I get why he would like such an attractive man. Ye’re charmin’.” He closed his eyes and pressed his mouth against Seamus’, muffling the cry for help he’d been trying to emit.

 

“Hmmm...too bad it has to end, doesn’t it?” Anti’s eyes jumped open, green meeting brown. The sickening grin on his face grew ever so much as he rested his palm on Seamus’ chest with just a bit of pressure behind it. Seamus’ eyes grew wide as he took in the monster of a man that stood before him, unable to make any noise and choking on the air that entered his lungs. Tears ran silently down his face.

 

“Ah well, I guess you got what you deserved,” Anti said, and he finally let the flames into Seamus’ body, slowly burning his heart.

 

_He was filled with satisfaction as he watched the life drain out of Seamus’ eyes._

 

* * *

 

Gasping, Jack sat up in bed. Tears left his eyes as he sobbed, shook and screamed. He was crying out for help, begging for someone – anyone – to help him escape.

 

His lungs burned as he tried to escape from the covers that were tied up around him, his shouts only increasing because of it. He couldn’t leave the covers and he couldn’t leave the world and he was stuck and it was his fau–

 

The door burst open, revealing Mark in all his glory. He raced over to Jack – who was still screaming, shouting and begging – and carefully got the bedsheets off of him. He whispered things like _“Don’t worry” “I’m here” “It’s going to be alright”,_ but Jack didn’t register any of it. He was still stuck in that God-awful bathroom and that God-awful space inside of his head.

 

As he curled up into a ball, arms around him as if he was protecting himself from the world, a hand made its way onto his back, rubbing soothing circles to calm him down.

 

Jack’s sobs subsided, his tears dried up and his screams were long gone. The thoughts, however, the thoughts remained. Even as Mark kept rubbing circles on his back and stroking his hair, even as a bit of his heart mended himself, the thoughts just wouldn’t fucking leave.

 

“I’m sorry…” He croaked out, not entirely sure what he was apologising for.

 

“Don’t be,” Mark whispered back, wrapping his arm around Jack’s shoulder. “You wanna talk about it?”

 

“I’d...I’d rather not.”

 

“That’s okay.”

 

Mark ran his fingers through Jack’s hair, trying to make him feel calm and safe. A sense of security washed over Jack, but also a sense of fear.

 

Because even though he’d dreamt it, even though there was a possibility of it not being real, he could still remember it all clearly, like a memory. He could still smell the fire. He could still feel the rage. He could still taste Seamus’ lips on his.

 

Because, like it or not, Seamus was dead.

 

And it was his fault.

 

Because he’d killed him.

 

* * *

 

_Guilty._

 

* * *

 

The tears on Signe Hansen-Foley’s cheeks had dried up. It was now only shock that she felt.

 

There was enough time to be sad later.

 

She stood strong as the police carried out her husband’s body.

 

She stood strong as the guests wrapped their arms around her and sobbed in her shoulder.

 

She stood strong as everyone sent her pitying looks.

 

But once she was alone in the bathroom where it had happened, the feeling of numbness disappeared completely.

 

It was replaced with fury, complete and utter rage, as she smelled what was something resembling fire, as she saw the acid green tint the floors where her husband had laid had.

 

As she came to the conclusion who had done this to them.

 

She took a deep breath.

 

And then a moment, one of the most important moments in time, passed, and Signe Hansen-Foley could hear a million thoughts that weren’t hers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> your theories on the last chapter were the best! i had so much fun reading them, really. there were quite a few truths in there, but also quite a few things that i wish i had added. ah well, i am more than happy with how this has turned out! please leave a comment because they're what honestly motivate me to write (that and this story just begs me to be written). 
> 
> anyway, i hope you liked the chapter and i'll try to get the next one up soon, but it is honest to god a monster and will probably take me ages to write. oops.
> 
> btw i know i talk about marvel a lot in the notes but i can't help myself, so does anybody know if there's a fanfic in which tony gets sent back to the forties? because i was watching captain america: the first avenger and i had that idea and craved it. (stony wouldn't hurt). (if not i shall write this myself (once i'm done with this of course).


	16. where i took the first step to the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: the majority of this chapter was finished in february. it is now april.

* * *

**“I guess that’s love, I can’t pretend**

**I can’t pretend”**

_ –Tom Odell, Can’t Pretend _

* * *

 

 

 _“Ye_ _really don’t have t’...”_

 

_ “It wouldn’t be any trouble, Jack...besides, since you...you’re going through such a hard time, it wouldn’t be fair to make you take a plane.” _

 

_ “It’s just...I’m sorry I’ve been such..such a burden...” _

 

_ “Jack, you lost one of your closest friends, your behaviour has been more than understandable. Besides, I don’t mind looking after you.” _

 

_ “I...I just…” _

 

_ “I know.” _

* * *

**Mark** walked through the streets of L.A., the conversation he and Jack had had before Mark had taken him to Seamus’ funeral replaying in his head.  _ Jesus... _ It was such a strange thought that the man whose wedding he’d attended less than a week ago was dead. Then again, every time he looked at Jack, who wore that lost expression on his face, Mark was painfully reminded of the fact.

 

Tears had started forming in his eyes when he’d left Mark, who’d considered going with Seán so he’d have a shoulder to cry on, but it would be inappropriate considering Mark’d only met the deceased once; on the day he was killed. Going to his funeral would not be suitable at all.

 

As he walked down the streets, he couldn’t get his mind off of Jack’s tear-stained face. God, he needed a distraction so badly, even Anti would be a welcome surprise at this point. He probably would’ve hugged the man if he’d seen him. 

 

He hadn’t heard from Anti for weeks, though. Not since the England Robberies (which he’d heard of after the fact,  _ damn it _ ). They were about a month ago and that worried him; the villain had  _ never  _ been this quiet before. It was stupid to worry about his enemy, but it was mostly out of self-preservation. For all he knew, Anti might have somehow found out who he was and started devising a plan to kill him.

 

Thinking of worrying only brought him full circle, back to Jack. Emotionally unstable Jack. Heartbroken Jack. Sleeping-for-twelve-hours-and-only-coming-down-for-food Jack. Saying-he-was-fine Jack. Fake-smiles Jack.

 

Mark raked a hand through his hair, the situation with Seán becoming more and more impossible every second. Jack seemed to be falling down a dark and gloomy hole even more every day and his nightmares only appeared to be worsening. Every night, Mark would be awoken by Jack’s screams, and every night he’d run to Jack’s room to comfort him. He ended up falling asleep there every time.

 

And that’s where biggest problem lay; his new routine of sleeping next to Jack. He didn’t mind, in fact, he really loved it. A lot. Too much. Whenever he woke up next to the Irishman, the feeling of loneliness that had started nagging him a few months ago, completely dissipated. When they woke up next to each other it was warm and soft and everything good in life _ ,  _ it felt perfect.

 

But it wasn’t perfect, not at all. Because when Jack woke up, the serenity on his face would disappear, the shadows underlining his eyes grew darker and the dullness in his expression returned.

 

It wasn’t perfect because it wasn’t real. They weren’t lying next to each other because there wasn’t any other place they wanted to be but the other’s arms, they were lying next to each other because Jack’s mind wouldn’t let him have a damn moment of peace. 

 

Mark really wanted the former reason to be the one why they were waking up together every morning, but he knew better than to believe it. Or pursue it, really, because that  _ was  _ an option — had been an option, until Seamus died.

 

Jack may have been ready before, but now… now he could barely leave the bed on his own. He couldn’t even properly wake up before twelve. He tried, Mark knew that he tried, but Jack wasn’t ready. He was grieving. Mark was trying to help him through it.

 

He didn’t know if he was doing a good job of it.

 

Mark came to a stop in front of a crossroads, almost walking straight into the traffic. A sigh left his lips. God, he was really thinking too much. 

 

Looking across the street, Mark spotted a grocery store. Maybe he could buy some cookies for Jack to make him feel a bit better when he came back...Not like it would make him any less grief-stricken, but it was worth a try. Maybe Jack would even smile. With a new-found determination, he crossed the road and walked into the store. 

* * *

There were barely any customers, so it was easy to overhear people’s conversations. For example, the two teenagers in the soda aisle, who were buying the sweet beverages for a club of some sort. He hadn’t caught what the club was for, but he still listened with interest.

 

_ “Andrew, no, you know Joanne doesn’t like Cola!” _

 

_ “Oh come on, Dania, you didn’t let me get Starbucks for everyone the last time, and now Cola is also off limits?” _

 

_ “Fine, we’ll get some Cola, but if Joanne complains  _ you  _ have to deal with it!” _

 

A grin made its way onto Mark’s face. He didn’t know why, but it was amusing to hear them argue about drinks. He picked up the chocolate chip cookies.

 

_ “So whaddya think he’s been up to?” _

 

_ “Dania, save it for the meeting.” _

 

_ “I personally think he’s been on a romantic holiday. Maybe his honeymoon…” _

 

The boy – Andrew – groaned,  _ “Septiplier isn’t real, they’re literally enemies!” _

 

_ Septiplier?  _ Was that… oh God.

 

_ “Fine,  but you can’t tell me Markiplier isn’t at least crushing on Anti. I mean, come on, just look at Anti, he’s so handsome!” _

 

_ “I thought we supported Anti, not Markiplier?” _

 

He was half considering confronting these kids  _ – supporting a criminal? At  _ that  _ age?! –  _ but realised that it would be fairly suspicious. A red-haired man preaching about Markiplier and shitting on Antisepticeye? Yeah,  _ definitely  _ suspicious. Besides, they were j–

 

A loud bang resonated, pulling Mark from his thoughts. A tall man was pointing a gun at a crying cashier, debris fell from the ceiling that had been shot. Mark swiftly rolled around the isle’s corner, hidden from the criminal’s sight. 

 

“Hands up, bitch, or I’ll shoot!”

 

Rummaging could be heard behind Mark, accompanied by the sobbing employee. His mind was at full speed, making up a plan-

 

“You! Kids! Help me put the cash in my bags!”

 

_ No. No no no no no no no no _ _ NO. _

 

Mark sped over to the thief, tackling him onto the ground faster than the man could notice. He caught up soon enough; a bullet grazed Mark’s side. He flinched, his side ached with pain, the criminal pushed him off. After a swift punch to Mark’s cheek, he pinned him down. The bullet wound started bleeding, his shirt stuck to him, the world flashed gray and blue and red.

 

Dizziness overtook his senses as he lay on the ground, groaning in pain. Everything started spinning, nausea swiftly rising up in him, his side  _ hurt. _

 

The assailant was suddenly pointing his gun right at him and Mark froze. He would run but he couldn’t  _ move,  _ he was stuck in his position on the floor, facing certain death.

 

Mark could see the man pull his trigger in slow-motion. 

 

Then, time stopped.

 

And promptly continued with Mark raising a red-and-blue-hued, see-through shield to protect himself. 

 

Mark stood up and kicked the man in his shin, slammed into him with his shield and knocked him onto the ground. His attacker was overwhelmed for a second before kicking back. A flash of pain seared through his ankles, forcing him to hold his shield in front of his lower legs. The robber took the opportunity to punch his wounded side. Mark buckled over, distracted by the shot of pain.

 

The felon ran for the exit, pushing his way through the busy street and disappearing from sight.

 

Mark collapsed onto the floor, groaning and clutching the throbbing wound. He knew it would heal – Hell, it would heal quicker than it would with most people – but ever since he’d had Anti’s flames in him, his healing powers had weakened significantly. 

 

“Sir! Sir, a-are you alright?” The teenaged girl, Dania, asked, concern lacing her voice.

 

Mark’s face contorted as he moved awkwardly on the ground. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” 

 

Shakily, he pushed himself up, his jaw clenching as he attempted to hide the spasms of pain shooting through his body. When he finally sat with his back against the cash desk, the cashier handed him a bottle of water, gratitude written across her face. He took a sip and reached for his wallet, but the cashier only shook her head.

 

“You’ve been shot!” The boy from earlier – Andrew – exclaimed. Mark’s hand shot to his side, wincing after touching the healing injury.

 

“It’s- it’s fine, I...uh...I’m...used to it?” The teenagers didn’t seem to hear, as they rushed off to find some bandages. Mark sighed. They soon returned with what seemed like a thousand different products to treat his wounds with.

 

“Listen, kids, this- this isn’t necessary, okay? I’ll be fine.”

 

“You’re hurt and you need some help, sir! Besides, you..you saved our lives…”

 

Mark honestly didn’t want them to see his wound, which had stopped bleeding and was probably already scabbing. He didn’t have the energy to fabricate an excuse for why he healed so quickly – though they probably already knew he was Markiplier, what with the red hair and all. So, with a sigh of defeat, he slowly lifted the shirt he was wearing.

 

His suspicions had been confirmed – a crust had formed over the wound. He heard the teenagers and the cashier gasp.

 

“You’re…”

 

“I’ve got a healing factor, yeah.”

 

“Are you...Markiplier?”

 

“The one and only,” Mark said with a wry grin on his face.

 

“Holy shit.” The three stared at him with wide eyes – awe. That was awe. Directed at him. Wow.

 

“Are you dating Anti?! Where’s he been?!!” “How did you get your powers?!” “Who else knows?!” They shouted all shouted at once, each question barely distinguishable from the other. 

 

“Uhh...No, I’m not dating Anti, though I am living together with an Irish guy, and I don’t know where Anti is, I’m kinda worried. I don’t know how I got my powers, I was born with them, I guess? And only my two best friends and a few members of the police force know.” 

 

“Why are you worried about Anti?” Dania questioned him.

 

Mark mentally rolled his eyes at her insinuation. Shippers. “He’s been too quiet, might be planning something.”

 

“...Are you sure that’s all?”   
  


“I can assure you that I am not in love with that Irishman.”

 

“So there’s another!”

 

He felt his cheeks warm up, “What? Uh..no?”

 

“There so is! What if he was Anti?!”

 

“What? No way, my roommate is definitely  _ not  _ Antisepticeye. I would’ve noticed.”

 

“So you’re crushing on your Irish roommate who may or may not be Antisepticeye!”

 

Mark wished the ground would swallow him up. Immediately.

 

“Aaaaanyway,” Andrew interrupted, “Could I have your autograph please?”

 

He could have kissed him out of relief.

* * *

 

**THE** voices were still ever present in Signe’s head, swarming around in her mind. Over the past few days, she’d learnt how to control them, make them more selective. She couldn’t tune out completely, but they were manageable and she didn’t have a constant headache anymore, so it was something. At her husband’s funeral, though, it was harder to manage. Her throat kept tightening as she looked towards the coffin he was laid in, her eyes kept tearing up she looked at his mother, her hands kept trembling as anyone offered her their condolences.

 

It was hard to focus, but she managed. The voices were kept at bay. But whenever anybody hugged her, she could hear their pitying thoughts.  _ ‘The poor soul’ ‘A widow at such a young age’ ‘On her wedding day! What a tragedy’. _

 

She wanted to leave them and their judgements, their small gossip-run town behind. She wanted to run and run until she found a new life. 

 

But she couldn’t do that to Seamus. She couldn’t leave behind the house they’d saved up for, she couldn’t leave the dog they’d wanted to adopt, she couldn’t leave  _ Patty.  _ Patty had lost her son and it didn’t seem like Seán was planning on staying by the looks of it. Patty couldn’t lose Signe as well.

 

She walked over to Patty and Seán, who were holding each other tightly. Seán sobs were muffled by Patty’s shoulder and Signe couldn’t help but pity the man; he had obviously still been at least slightly in love with Seamus and when he finally had him back as a friend, he’d been taken from him. 

 

Seamus had been brutally taken from everyone in the building. 

 

Seamus had been taken by Anti.

 

_ Don’t worry, dear Signe, we’re going to avenge him. _

* * *

**THE** funeral drained him of all of the energy he may have possibly had. He wanted to dive into a bed and never leave. Maybe never wake up, at least then he’d stop feeling so shitty.

 

He hated this feeling.

 

Jack wanted it to stop, just for five minutes. No more than that, and then at least he would have hope again.

 

He was running out of hope.

 

Everything was going downhill so quickly, giving him no moment of peace. Even his dreams wouldn’t leave him alone anymore. Nightmare after nightmare, always featuring the flames he used to burn the people he loved. 

 

Jack didn’t know if he could use them again. 

 

He wanted to use them again, return to that beautiful normalcy of stealing from whatever place he could, but the flames…

 

_ With great power comes great responsibility.  _ That was what he’d said when starting out, when he wanted to be like his childhood-hero Spiderman.

 

A hero.

 

He was so fucking far from that now. 

* * *

_ “Jack, what are ye doing here?” _

 

_ “Sea-Seamus?” _

 

_ “What’s wrong?” _

 

_ “I...I had a fight wit’ Mark…”  _

 

_ “Oh shite, man…” _

 

_ “...” _

 

_ “...” _

 

_ “I’m goin’ t’ get yer- yer suit wet like t’is.” _

 

_ “Seriously? Seán, ya need a hug, who t’e fuck gives a shit about my suit?” _

 

_ “...” _

 

_ “...” _

 

_ “...” _

 

_ “...I t’ink I never said I was sorry.” _

 

_ “Fer what?” _

 

_ “Fer bein’ such a giant douche t’ ye. God, Seán, I was such a dick.” _

 

_ “It’s fi–” _

 

_ “But it’s not! Ye were my best friend and I just...I betrayed your trust.” _

 

_ “...” _

 

_ “...” _

 

_ “I’m glad ye’re here.” _

 

_ “I’m glad I’m here too.” _

 

_ Jack laid his head down on Seamus’s shoulder.  _

 

_ “I just don’t get one thing, though…” Seamus murmured into his hair. _

 

_ “What? _

 

_ “I don’t get why you had to kill me.” _

* * *

Jack shot up, breathing erratically. 

 

Another nightmare. 

 

This time had been tamer than the others, and yet  _ so much worse. _

 

Oh God, his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

 

He released a strained sob, the world around him a blur.

 

_ Seamus… _

 

“Jack?”

 

Mark was stood in the doorway, as he had been the past few nights.

 

“Another nightmare?”

 

Jack responded with another sob.

 

Mark walked over to him, lay down in the bed next to him and started stroking his hair.

 

“You wanna talk about it?”

 

Jack just shook his head.

 

“That’s okay…”

 

He drifted off soon enough.

* * *

That morning Jack had awoken in Mark’s arms again.

 

The next morning, the same thing had happened.

 

The night after that, they had just headed to bed together.

 

_ “You tired?” Mark had mumbled. He had responded with an affirmative hum, his eyes having slid shut two minutes ago. _

 

_ “Let’s head up, then.” Jack complied and stumbled upstairs to the bedroom he was staying in, he barely noticed Mark had followed him up. Only after he sunk into the comfortable bed, did he notice the other man changing his clothes. He didn’t say anything as the bed dipped.  _

 

And they kept doing that. Every night. For the past week.

 

Jack admitted that his nightmares had become fewer and left him less breathless when he woke up, and he wasn’t complaining, but it was just…

 

Mark was his enemy.

 

He couldn’t head to bed with him every night, as pleasant as it was.

 

He…

 

It had to stop. 

* * *

“JACK!” The panicked yell woke him from his light sleep. He shot up and climbed out of bed, running down the wooden stairs to find Mark.

 

Mark was sat on the grey sofa in the living room. In his shaking hands was a letter, dark words scratched on the page as if the one who’d written them had never held a pen before. 

 

Jack sat next to Mark and snatched the letter out of his hands. His eyes skimmed over the page, not taking in the words as he already knew them by heart. 

 

_ ‘Dear Markimoo, I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long.’  _ It read.  _ ‘But even the world’s most-wanted need to take a break.’ _

 

“He knows who I am.” Mark croaked out. “He  _ fucking knows who I am.” _

 

He placed the letter on the glass table, making sure there was no damage done to it. His arm made its way around Mark’s back.

 

_ ‘I would ask you how you’ve been, but that would require me to give you my phone number or address, and we both know that is never going to happen.’ _

 

“What if he’s someone I know? Someone I  _ trust?”  _ Tears streamed down the Americans face while Jack held his hand, rubbing soothing circles on it. His throat tightened and there was a pressure behind his eyes as he did so.

 

_ ‘So let’s meet up sometime soon. I’ll let you know when, whether it be by mail or other methods.’ _

Jack swallowed. “I’ll help you figure out who it is.” 

 

Mark shot him a tight but earnest smile that made his eyes crinkle. He turned towards him and grabbed his hands, squeezing them. 

 

“I know.” He murmured.

 

Mark leaned in, intoxicated by the man in front of him, his eyes fluttering to a close and his lips almost close enough to touch Jack’s.

 

He pulled back.

 

_ ‘Lots of Love, Antisepticeye.’ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so like sorry for the impromptu three month hiatus but i just didn't feel like writing it oops. also i promise mark's shield is not a captain america ripoff but i couldn't expand on that in this chapter. look forward to more signe next chapter!
> 
>  
> 
> also sorry for the nearly kiss but not really. (i guess it's my thing???)


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